Long, Long Way From Home
by Lumora the White
Summary: Her father FBI Agent James Elliott is killed by a demon, her mother Detective Karen Elliott SFPD now resides in Sioux Falls Sanitarium. Come along for the ride as Christine Elliott, now ward of Bobby Singer, discovers the true heroes her parents really are. [Dean W., OC] Bobby S., Sam W.
1. Hells Bells: A Well Respected Man

Long, Long Way From Home

Bobby Singer, [Dean Winchester, OC], Sam Winchester

**Disclaimer: Kripke and his entourage own Supernatural and subsequent world. I only play in it. I own OC and new plot additives. **

Prequel: Hells Bells

Christine Elliott grew up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota like any other midwestern American kid. Her parents, Karen and James worked government jobs, her Dad was an FBI agent, and Mom worked at the local police department. The biggest difference was the day their neighbor she fondly referred to as "Uncle" Bobby Singer (she stayed with him a lot because of her parents day jobs) sat her down and told her that her father had been killed while catching a serial killer. Her mother was beside herself with grief, especially since the serial killer had sent letters and flowers to the house prior to his capture and incarceration. Karen didn't recover after her husbands death and was taken off the police force entirely. She continued to spiral, and eventually ended up being admitted to the local sanitarium.

Christine went to stay with Uncle Bobby as he was listed as next of kin for the girl in the event of her parent's absence. Bobby Singer wasn't surprised the girl was so calm. She accepted the news with a brief nod and a few tears, but no outbursts or heartbreaking displays of grief. All she said in her trembly nine year old voice was, "They caught the son of a bitch. That's what really matters." Bobby didn't have the heart to tell her that the serial killer was really a man who had been possessed by a demon. That was why her mother had gone insane. James lost his life, and the demon was sent back to hell via Rufus and Bobby. Karen was convinced that the demon would come back for them one day.

James and Karen Elliott were hunters but they wanted to keep Christine innocent as long as possible. Their day jobs were actually real, though their knowledge of the supernatural proved to be quite the complement. Bobby used discretion in what books he allowed the girl to read and leaf through during her stays at his house. He posed as a college professor, to account for the mountain of books. He also told her he consulted for the government on bizarre cases, keeping up the ruse by linking himself to her parents. It also helped to explain the various phone lines and phone calls he received on a daily basis. He always said he'd never have kids. Life sure has a funny way of proving you wrong.

* * *

><p>Chapter One: A Well Respected Man<p>

Hushed heated voices roused Christine Elliott from her warm bed. Rubbing her bleary eyes, she padded across the well worn floor boards of her bedroom. The door sat slightly ajar, a single beam of light piercing the darkness as she wrapped her fingers around the knob and slowly pulled it open. The wall sconces, set to a ghostly dim cast shadows up and down the heavily wall papered walls. Silently she made her way down the hall to the top of the stairs. The voices were still intelligible, but she could distinctly hear it was Uncle Bobby and Dean Winchester exchanging words. Five years had passed since her father's death and her mother's breakdown. Five years, along with her previous sporadic stays allowed her to navigate the staircase with super stealth.

Muted light spilled over from the slightly open kitchen door into the freezing foyer. Christine halted at the bottom of the staircase, her breath coming in small mists before her as the sound of a fist slamming down on the eat-in kitchen's table reached her ears. Finally she could make out words.

"Dammit Dean!" Uncle Bobby exclaimed in an exasperated whisper.

"What?" Dean whispered back incredulously.

"Christine is innocent! You can't tell her nothing." Uncle Bobby sounded like he did when she caught him impersonating an FBI agent on the phone last week.

Christine inched closer to the door. "Sam knows, why can't she?" Dean protested. She imagined him crossing his arms, legs spread apart, chin lifting in defiance.

"You know why Dean." Bobby sounded tired. She glanced up at the cuckoo clock hung by the stairs. She had basically begged Uncle Bobby to buy it at a local garage sale last summer. 3:00AM. Mr. Winchester must have been called away in the middle of the night again.

"Christine is smart, she can shoot straight, and she fights-" Christine could feel her chest swell with pride. She was an excellent shot.

"You idjit!" Uncle Bobby exclaimed, barely catching himself to control his volume. Christine reached the door in time to see the older man swat at the younger one's head. "What did I tell you-"

Dean rolled his eyes, stepping just out of reach and slumped against the counter. "You told me not to teach her to shoot or fight but-"

"But nothing boy." Uncle Bobby placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, shaking him slightly, "We are honoring her folks wishes. The supernatural world isn't a place for that sweet innocent girl, she's just a child for Christ's sake."

"I'm almost fifteen!" A cry came from behind the kitchen door towards the stairs. Christine hardly realized it was her own voice save for Dean's smirk now revealed by Uncle Bobby swinging the door open to see her standing in the foyer. Dean pushed off the counter, coming towards Uncle Bobby and the doorway.

"Christine!" Bobby exclaimed, no longer worried about his volume. "I thought you were in bed hours ago."

"Guess I'm not," She quipped with a smile at Dean who rewarded her with a wink. "I think if little Sammy knows, I should know. What's the big deal?" She asked as Dean came to stand beside her.

"Yeah, What's the big deal?" That's Dean, always coming to her defense. The two of them could get into an insane amount of trouble in an insanely short amount of time.

Bobby eyed Dean and the way he was standing a little to close to the girl for his liking. "Dean, bed." Dean started to protest, "Now." Dean dropped his gaze to the floor and shuffled by Christine, mumbling a 'goodnight' through his clenched teeth. Christine knew he would be waiting for her when she got upstairs.

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed under his breath. He wasn't going to be able to weasel his way out of this one. For a few years now Sam had known the truth of what killed his mother and what his father did. It was only a matter of time before Sam figured out that Christine's father died as a result of demon attack. Bobby motioned for Christine to sit down at the kitchen table, obviously this was going to be a longer conversation then he had planned to have with Dean. With careful ease Bobby set a kettle to boil on the stove and disappeared through the doorway to the library. Christine slumped into a chair facing the window over the sink. She could hear him shuffling through some papers and a few heavy thuds indicated he was moving the heavy tombs on the oversized desk. After a few minutes, he returned, setting what looked like an extremely dusty shoe box on the table. Before he could speak, the kettle began to whistle quietly on the stove. He moved to the stove, and prepared tea in some old tin camp mugs, taking a quick sniff of each mug to make sure they were whiskey free.

_Five Years ago_

_A blood curling scream rang out in the darkness. Christine's eyes flew open, and she threw back the covers. "Mom?" She called out reaching the upstairs railing. No response. Christine continued down the staircase, stopping at the bottom to listen. Another scream broke the eery silence, this time Christine recognized the strangled sound. Rounding the corner, she found her mother lying on the kitchen floor clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand and the phone in her other. "Christine!" Her mother choked out past her sobs. "You're father, he's…he's in trouble! Oh God!" Christine felt frozen to her spot on the linoleum. Her mother's hysteria grew, she wasn't sure what to do. Suddenly a knock sounded on the front door-_

Christine jumped in her chair when Bobby sat the mugs down on table, she had faded into remembering the night her father died. "Sorry," She said, fidgeting in her seat, wrapping her hands around the mug for warmth.

Bobby didn't sit, instead he opened the box and pulled out a leather bound book. He stared down at it for a minute. Then with a heavy sigh, set it on the table and slid it over to her. He settled in the chair next to her, and waited for her to speak or open the journal. She took a gulp of tea, wincing as the hot liquid traveled down her throat and set the steaming mug aside. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and picked up the heavy volume in her hands. Emblazoned on the black cover in silver were the words, "The Family Business." Christine looked sideways at Bobby and squared her shoulders. She had this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. All those fairytales and myths she loved to read were about to become all too real.

Bobby's hand covered hers as he spoke, "Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough to handle what's inside." Christine gulped. Bobby released her hand and continued. "I've always told ya your parents were heroes kid. It's time you really knew why."

Christine opened the book and found the first page contained a letter from her father. It was addressed to her!

_Christine,_

_If I am not with you when you are reading this, I am sorry I can__'__t teach you about this life myself. Bobby Singer is a great man. He will keep you safe and he will teach you all you need to know. _

_Your mother and I belong to a group of people called Hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures. This includes vampires, werewolves, and yes, even demons. If we find a supernatural creature who is coexisting with humans and not harming them in any way, we __"tag" __them and check in from time to time. Most of the time the creatures need to be handled right then and there. _

_This journal contains __"__cases__" __that I have been on, sometimes your mother would join me or Bobby would join as well. Most locations are found via GPS coordinates. Its old fashioned, but reliable. You__'__ll find us hunters are extremely old school. I__'__m sure new tech can help, but things like rock salt filled shot gun shells and spray paint are basic necessity. This book is only a drop in the bucket when it comes to all the lore and knowledge of the supernatural. _

_If this is too much for you, I understand. The idea that monsters are real is extremely ludicrous, although I assure you, very true. You do not have to join the life Christine. You have a choice. You can continue to live a normal life, or you can join the fight to protect our family and honor your mother and I and your grandparents before us. Hunting is really a family affair, at least for us Elliotts. I hope you choose to join the family legacy. _

_I__'__m proud of you, whatever you choose Chris. _

_Always,_

_Dad_

Bobby took a sip of his tea with a grimace and watch the young girls green eyes well up with tears. Quickly brushing them away she closed the book and met his eyes with her watery ones. "Thank you keeping this safe for me Uncle Bobby. I'll see you in the morning." Christine's voice was even and sterile. He could tell she was holding back a floodgate of tears. Not wanting to embarrass her, he nodded.

"Sure thing sweetie." He rose from the table as she did, "I'll be here." As he finished his sentence Christine launched herself at the man and he enveloped her in his arms. She pulled back and he looked at her for a moment ruffling her curly blonde hair, "Idjit." He whispered with a grin. Christine gave a small smile, and smoothing her hair as she disappeared up the staircase. Bobby picked up his mug from the table and with a sigh headed toward his book collection. He had studying to do.

* * *

><p>Dean Winchester knew exactly what Christine was going through. He settled himself on the top step, just out of view of the kitchen door. Finding out monsters were real was overwhelming enough. Then to find out that your parents fight evil like some unsung superheroes was almost laughable. The new reality of it all was really hard to understand. He could hear Bobby shuffling around for something in the den, probably Mr. Elliott's journal, every hunter kept one. He heard the tea kettle begin to whistle, Christine was going to be down there for awhile. He got to his feet as quietly as he could, then continued down the hall to Christine's room. He wanted to be there for her when she returned. Bobby was always calling them the dynamic duo or saying they were like 'two peas in a pod'.<p>

Christine's room was always so clean. It smelled of fresh linen and sunshine, just like her pretty curly blonde hair had when we leaned close to her a few moments ago. Dean liked that everything seemed to have its place, though she never got too upset at him for moving her little angel statuettes or picking up her books and leafing through them. He settled himself on her full size bed, back against the wall, elbows resting on his knees. He tipped his head back against wall just to rest his eyes.

"Dean," Christine whispered after she had shut her door quietly, but loud enough for Bobby to hear she was in bed. She moved toward to her desk and switched on her lamp. Dean had passed out sitting upright in her bed. Looks like the Winchester boys had driven a long way tonight to get to Sioux Falls.

"I'm awake," Dean mumbled, trying to not seemed as startled as he felt. He rubbed his eyes and straightened a bit, patting the vacant space beside him. Still clutching her father's journal, Christine slipped off her fuzzy cheetah print slippers and climbed into bed. Dean's eyes opened and took in the sight of her. She looked very tired, then again, maybe she was just mirroring his own facade. Her green eyes swam with tears, and her lip trembled a little bit. She opened her mouth to speak, but tears just ran down her face instead. He opened his arms to her, and she buried her face into his chest. Silent sobs wracked her body and his shirt became wet with hot tears. The journal slid out from her grasp and lay open on the bed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Dean wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, he only knew that he had this fierce need to hold and protect her.

"Its all real." She whispered into his neck. Dean took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He needed to focus on how emotional she was, not how aware he was of her closeness. He thought of how he would always find her in Bobby's den bent over some dusty book. She at least had been exposed to the lore, even if she didn't think it was real at the time.

"Yep." Dean chuckled, "Big Foot's a hoax," he grinned, earning a glare from Christine, "But, yeah. Demons, vampires, ghosts, they are all the real deal."

Christine straightened briefly to place her father's journal on her night stand. Then she settled back against Dean. His fingers played absently in her hair. She hummed in approval. "You taught me to shoot and fight because you knew it was all real." Suddenly she whipped around to face him, "How long have you known?"

Dean stared down into her wide eyes. He smoothed a few strands behind her ear, suddenly feeling the weight of what he was about to share with her. "I was four. My mom died in a nursery fire and we moved around a lot after that. My Dad took up this mantle of finding the son of a bitch that killed my mom." He took a deep breath and focused on the light of the lamp beyond her head, "I remember my mom used to cut the crusts off my PB&J. I tried to act all tough, but she would do it for me anyway." He met her gaze again, "I don't know why I just told you that." He scoffed with a smirk.

"I'm glad you did." Christine whispered, "It helps me understand you, and how this world, even though full of real monsters, isn't that different from the one I've known." She barked a laugh, "I feel like I'm going insane. This can't be happening!'

Dean smiled a knowing smile. This was why he wanted to be there for her. He remembered wondering if his Dad really had just gone insane after his mom died in their house fire. He was mostly convinced by his father's conviction and his unwavering orders to protect Sammy at all cost. "What can I do to prove this is really happening?" He asked with a shy smile. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her. That would be a nice memory to lighten up the darkness she had just discovered.

Christine's eyes widened at his question and a blush crept up her cheeks. "Uh, well." She stammered, "Y-you could stay here until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone right now." She thought Dean was dangerously attractive, but she knew she wasn't pretty enough for him. She saw the way he looked at Melissa, one of her classmates who lived just down the street. It didn't stop her from thinking what it would be like for him to look at her that way though.

Dean shrugged it off, "Of course." He slid off the bed so she could pull back the covers. Christine settled herself in bed while Dean tucked up the covers around her. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss at her temple. Then he settled next to her, propped up against the headboard, letting her curl up next to him. His fingers found themselves in her soft hair again as he listened to her breathing slowly even out. He told himself he would just stay long enough to make sure she was asleep, that was a great plan until sleep came swiftly for him too.

* * *

><p><em>from the author's desk<em>

_Hello dear readers! Thank you so much for joining me on the journey of my first Supernatural fan fiction. First things first, the title, "Long, Long Way From Home" is based on the fantastical Foreigner track by the same namesake. The first minute of the song is absolute magic. I believe the tone, the lyrics and delivery embody Dean Winchester perfectly. _

_Hells Bells - AC/DC - I chose this song for the guitar riff alone. The lyrics do complement the scenario nicely, but the mood the guitar sets is what I'm going for._

_A Well Respected Man - The Kinks - This song always makes me think of my father. I believe this song embodies how Christine views her father until she reads the journal. We'll have to see how that changes in the chapters to come. _

_Thanks for coming along for the ride. Now let's fast forward ten years to "Devils Trap" where Bobby makes his first appearance in our beloved fandom. _

_Below is a link to my playlist for this work, just take out the spaces for the link to work. _

_xoxo_

_Lumora The White _

_playlist link : www. youtube . __com/watch?v=eedm15ZEaEg&index=1&list=PLwUIPc_Oc20HPKbPgabVia_s-8WEeD2Vy_


	2. The Boys Are Back In Town

Long, Long Way From Home

_Previously…_

_She barked a laugh, __"__I feel like I__'__m going insane. This can__'__t be happening!__'_

_Dean smiled a knowing smile. This was why he wanted to be there for her. He remembered wondering if his Dad really had just gone insane after his mom died in their house fire. He was mostly convinced by his father__'__s conviction and his unwavering orders to protect Sammy at all cost. __"__What can I do to prove this is really happening?__" __He asked with a shy smile. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her. That would be a nice memory to lighten up the darkness she had just discovered. _

_Christine's eyes widened at his question and a blush crept up her cheeks. "Uh, well." She stammered, "Y-you could stay here until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone right now." She thought Dean was dangerously attractive, but she knew she wasn't pretty enough for him. She saw the way he looked at Melissa, one of her classmates who lived just down the street. It didn't stop her from thinking what it would be like for him to look at her that way though. _

_Dean shrugged it off, "Of course." He slid off the bed so she could pull back the covers. Christine settled herself in bed while Dean tucked up the covers around her. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss at her temple. Then he settled next to her, propped up against the headboard, letting her curl up next to him. His fingers found themselves in her soft hair again as he listened to her breathing slowly even out. He told himself he would just stay long enough to make sure she was asleep, that was a great plan until sleep came swiftly for him too._

* * *

><p>Chapter Two : The Boys Are Back In Town<p>

Christine awoke to the sound of an engine revving outside the, back door. The sound was unmistakably the deep throaty purr of the Impala. Mr. Winchester had returned. Sitting up in bed she found Dean to be already upright, and running his fingers through his short hair to fix it into his usual "devil may care" swagger in her dresser mirror. He turned back to the bed, "Dad's back. From the sound of it, we're heading out right now. Bobby's pissed, so I don't know when we'll be back." He leaned down to her and kissed her temple, pulling her into a tight hug. Another quick kiss to her temple, and a callused finger lifted her chin; he looked directly into her eyes. "See ya, Chris." Chris. She had only ever let her father call her that. She didn't mind it coming from the eldest Winchester.

"See ya, Winchester." She yawned with a shy smile. He disappeared into the darkness with that shit eating grin that made her heart melt. That was the last time she saw Dean Winchester.

* * *

><p>Ten Years Later : 2006<p>

Life with Bobby Singer was always an adventure. When Christine learned of her parent's involvement with the supernatural, she began training full tilt. School always came first, Bobby insisted. He would often tell her if she ever got the chance, she should get out of this life. Christine was hell bent on hunting down the demon that killed her father, she didn't see that there was anyway out of this life. Bobby was testament to that. After his wife's death he didn't run away from this life, he embraced it. He would go on the occasional hunt when he was unable to find a hunter to dispatch to it. Most days the duo could be found bent over books in the library or working out in the salvage yard.

Bobby surprised Christine with an antique upright grand piano for her sixteenth birthday. She had a solo in the choir concert her sophomore year. Bobby had shown up in one of his FBI "monkey suits", hair slicked back, beard trimmed and a nervousness that was extremely endearing. He always insisted that she pursue other interests than target practice or lore research. Christine at least enjoyed music, she even took piano and voice lessons from a retired school teacher in town. She told herself she only kept playing after high school to appease Bobby. After all he had done for her, she wanted a way to thank him. The hard headed bastard wouldn't admit it, but he enjoyed the music almost as much as his whiskey. When it was too dark to work out in the salvage, or too cold, and they had their fill of research, Christine would sit and play for a while. Sometimes she would even sing.

She listened to old cassette tapes she found while working on cars for Bobby. AC/DC, Bad Company, Bob Seger, Journey, Foreigner and Def Leppard were her usual juke box. That's where she was now, sitting on the piano bench, hands to to the keys, her voice lifted in song. Bobby could hear the words, "walk away, if you want to, it's okay, if you need to. You can run, but you can never hide, from the shadow that's creepin' up inside you." He smiled and turned to look out the kitchen window, facing the salvage yard. Def Leppard was always included in her afternoon set list.

He had answered the phone earlier when Christine was out in the salvage yard doing some clean up. Sam and Dean Winchester were on their way over. John Winchester had gone missing awhile back, and Sam teamed up with Dean to find him. After returning to school a week later, Sam's girlfriend was murdered the same way their mother was. Sam was back in the life just like that, in hot pursuit of the yellow eyed demon like his father and older brother.

Now John had been captured by some demons and they were demanding The Colt, the real one. Apparently John had taken a fake to buy the boys some time to find ol' yellow eyes. The plan backfired and John was captured. Bobby and John had a falling out ten years earlier. John was a damn good hunter. Sometimes he could be reckless. Bobby didn't agree with the way he was getting information on the yellow eyed demon. John was torturing people who were possessed and more often then not those people were ending up dead when he finished exorcizing them. Bobby didn't want to be a part of hunting like that. He tried to tell John that there were still people trapped in those meat suits. John wouldn't hear of it. So, ten years ago, he had threatened John with a shot gun and told him to never come back. The boys were safely tucked away in the house, but he knew Dean had heard and understood the exchange when he passed him to join his father in the Impala.

When he received Dean's phone call this afternoon, he didn't hesitate to help the boys. John may be a crazy son of a bitch with unorthodox methods, but that didn't mean his life didn't matter. As soon as he hung up Bobby poured over a few volumes he had on demonology for anything that would help the boys in this boss fight. He knew about devil traps and exorcisms, but he wanted to see if anything other information would help. He had asked Christine to fetch The Key of Solomon from her desk upstairs, he knew she was reading it again since he found her carving a devil's trap in the ceiling by his fireplace. She had explained they could lure the demon inside the house, let it think it was cornering them and bam! They had it trapped. Who looks up at the ceiling these days? He knew Sam would want to see the book, being the nerd of the two. He even filled two flasks for the boys, one with holy water, the other, whiskey. Now all they needed to do was wait. He poured himself a glass and settled in an arm chair, listening to Christine finish 'Two Steps Behind.'

* * *

><p>The Impala came to a grinding halt in the dust at Bobby's back porch. Sam pocketed his phone and looked over at Dean. Dean sat still, hands resting on the wheel, staring out into the middle distance. "Dean," Sam inquired, "Hey man, are you okay?"<p>

Dean sniffed and shook his head slightly, a hand wiping across his face. "Yeah," he ground out, clearing his throat. The minute they turned on to Bobby's road, the flashback started. He was back in Christine's room, it was the last time he saw her. He had wanted to kiss her, but they were far too young. Now ten years had flown by. She knew the family business. She wasn't too young now.

"Bobby seemed cool over the phone, right?" Sam asked, worry seeping into his voice. He remembered the night that they left Bobby's and why they didn't return until now.

"Yeah, its fine." Dean waving him off, pushing himself out of the car. Sam followed suit and started up the dirt path to the porch steps. Dean shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, letting Sam go ahead of him. He could hear piano music floating on the breeze. A soulful female voice was singing. He pushed off the door and followed Sam up to the house. He wondered if Bobby had picked up a taste for classical music.

The brother's reached the door and Dean could make out the words being sung, "I was inside, looking outside, oh the millions of faces, but still I'm alone." Foreigner. Hmmm. The music sounded recorded, but he hadn't ever heard a piano cover of Long, Long Way From Home, let alone a female singing lead.

Christine didn't hear the car or Bobby leave his chair, she was enjoying herself too much. She knew Bobby had settled in an arm chair behind her and she was in the groove. Bobby heard the Impala pull in and almost interrupted Christine, but thought it might be fun to see how the boys reacted to her. He knew Dean had a crush on the girl at sixteen. Let's see what ten years of wondering had done. With that in mind, he got up and went to the back door.

Bobby opened the door before Sam could knock and the older man pulled the younger one into a bear hug. "Hey Bobby!" Sam exclaimed. Dean came next and same greeting was had. Bobby felt somewhat responsible for the boys since John left them with him occasionally as they were growing up.

"Bobby," Dean said with a nod. Bobby smiled and put a finger to his lips, leading the way into the den.

Christine was still singing and playing like there was no one around. Dean drank in the sight of her. Her unruly curly blonde hair had relaxed a little, but had doubled in length, falling almost to her waist. Her shoulders and arms looked toned, and she still had that creamy white complexion that made him weak in the knees. "Monday! Sad, sad Monday! He's waiting for me, but I'm a long, long way from home!" She finished the song with a flourish. As the chords faded away a voice from her past broke into her reverie.

"Foreigner?" Dean quipped. All three men stood in the archway between the kitchen and den.

Christine swung around. She knew the boys were coming, she just didn't expect Bobby to let her play through their arrival. She took in the sight of all three of them standing there, all with goofy grins on their faces. Christine was speechless.

"What?" Dean laughed, "No smart ass remark?" He teased, taking a step forward.

Dean Winchester had grown up to be a dangerously handsome man. Sam still looked a bit boyish with his skater boy hair cut and oversized shoulders. Dean, he was all sharp angles, muscles, well worn jeans and boots. Christine gripped the piano bench to steady herself. She swallowed thickly and then spoke, "I thought you'd be taller." She grinned then broke into a giggle. She stood up and got clear of the piano bench.

Dean guessed that she was at least 5'9", her legs seemed to go for a mile. She filled out nicely, her chest more than ample, and her figure curvy but fit. Her eyes, however, were the same wide green ones he almost lost himself in that night he left. He took another step forward and said softly, "C'mere Chris."

Christine went into his outstretched arms gladly. She had expected the reunion to be more awkward. Granted, her and Dean had a history that trumped the ten year hiatus. Looking over Dean's shoulder she could have sworn she saw tears in Bobby's eyes. Sam was already pouring over the book she had retrieved from her room. Sam looked up from the book as Dean and Christine pulled a part. "Great to see you Christine, you sound amazing." He smiled and then went back to the book. Typical Sam, even back then he was always keenly interested in books and information.

Dean nodded in agreement, clearing his throat. "I thought Bobby had some top secret recording or something." He chuckled. Christine shook her head and playfully punched him in the arm. He played hurt, then put his arm around her, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "We'll talk more later, I promise." She nodded, there were more urgent things at the moment then their relationship. They needed to focus on finding John.

"Here ya go," Bobby handed Dean a silver flask.

"What's this? Holy water?" Dean asked.

"That one is," Bobby answered, "This one's whiskey," he said holding up the other, taking a quick swig then handing it to Dean who followed suit.

"Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should come." Dean said pocketing the flasks.

"Nonsense, you're daddy needs help," Bobby answered, hands resting on his hips.

Dean chuckled, "Well, last time we were here, you did threatened to blast him full of buckshot."

"Yeah, you cocked the shotgun and everything," Christine chimed in from the kitchen. She was grabbing some beers from the fridge.

"Yeah, what can I say. John just has that effect on people." Bobby answered with a shrug.

Dean nodded knowingly, "Yeah, guess he does." He gave a tight smile, and took the beer being offered to him.

"None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back." Bobby said, looking over at Sam.

"Bobby, this book." Sam let out a breath, "I've never seen anything like it."

"The Key of Solomon," Christine said, plopping down on the piano bench once again. "its the real deal alright." She smiled, turning to play a few keys softly. Bobby sat down on the edge of the desk, Dean was purusing the shelves, stealing glances at Christine across the room. Christine pretended to ignore him.

"And these uh, these protective circles, they really work?" Sam asked pointing to the picture before him.

"Hell yeah, " Bobby said, "You get a demon in one, they're trapped, powerless. It's like a satanic roach motel." They all chuckled at that.

"Man know's his stuff." Christine stated. She had turned around and left the keys abandoned.

"Yeah." the brother's agreed.

"I'll tell you something else now too." Bobby continued, "This is some serious crap you boys stepped in."

Sam straightened up in his chair, "Oh yeah, how's that?" He asked.

Dean took a swig of beer and made room for Christine as she joined their little pow-wow around the desk.

"Normal year, I hear of say, three demonic possessions, maybe four tops." Bobby explained.

"Yeah," Dean said intrigued.

Bobby continued, "This year I've heard of 27."

"So far," Christine finished for him. She had been helping Bobby keep track of the possessions, based just on the sheer number alone, something big was a foot.

"You get what I'm saying?" Bobby asked, the brother's nodded. "More and more demons are walking among us."

"A lot more," Christine huffed, exchanging a look with Dean.

"Do you know why?" Sam asked, taking a swig of beer himself.

"No," Bobby answered.

"But we know its something big. There's a storm coming." Christine stated, handing Sam the file she had retrieved from her desk upstairs containing all the demonic possessions so far this year.

"And you boys, your daddy, you are smack in the middle of it." Bobby told Sam and Dean. Suddenly Rumsfeld started howling in the back yard. "Rumsfeld!" Bobby ran over to the kitchen window and peered out the blinds.

"Something's wrong." Christine exclaimed, clearing the beer bottles away into the kitchen. She dropped them in the recycling and headed for the back door. Before she could get there, it flew open, and Meg Masters walked in.

"No more crap, okay?" Meg spat as wood splinters flew through the air.

Dean charged forward holy water flask in hand, Meg just smirked and with a wave of her arm sent Dean flying into a stack of books. Christine had just reached the archway between the kitchen and den when the door flew open. She shielding her face from the flying books as Dean hit the ground. Quickly, she knelt down next to Dean to see if he was still breathing.

Sam stepped forward, shielding Bobby from Meg's advance. "I want The Colt Sam, the REAL Colt. Right now." She demanded. Christine could feel the rise and fall of Dean's chest, along with a steady pulse. He was going to be alright, he was just down for the count. Bobby locked eyes with Sam, and grabbed the younger man's arm, discretely steering them deeper into the room beyond Christine and Dean.

"We don't have it on us, we buried it." Sam answered tightly. He had seen the devil's trap on the ceiling earlier. Bobby really did know his stuff.

"Didn't I say, 'no more crap'?" Meg taunted, slowly advancing on the pair, following them deeper into the room. "After everything I've heard about you Winchesters, I gotta tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed. First Jonny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads." She paused for what seemed like effect, "Lackluster, men." She took a breath and continued following them, "I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

Meanwhile, Dean had awoken. He was a little dazed, but seemed to have his wits about him. Christine rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling and inclined her head to the retreating duo by the fireplace. Dean gave a minuscule nod and with her help stood up as quietly as they could.

"Actually, we were counting on it." Dean ground out, his rage barely contained. Meg turned at the sound of his voice. If looks could kill, Meg would have been in flames. Dean's eyes went to the ceiling, and like a mouse caught in a trap, Meg's eyes followed. They had managed to keep Meg talking and unaware of the trap waiting for her on the ceiling.

Christine stepped out from behind Dean and gave a smug smile, "Gotcha."

* * *

><p><em>from the author's desk…<em>

_Reunited and it feels so good! They have many more pressing matters like finding John and then ultimately surviving… but at least we've had a short, but sweet reunion. _

_The Boys Are Back In Town - Thin Lizzy. I always think of Sam and Dean whenever I hear this song. I believe Season 1 is all about "getting the band back together." _

_Will Dean take Christine with him? Or will she go on a hunt of her own? We'll see! Until then, cheers!_

_xoxo_

_Lumora The White_


	3. Lonely Is The Night

**Long, Long Way From Home**

_Previously…_

"_Didn__'__t I say, '__no more crap__'__?" __Meg taunted, slowly advancing on the pair, following them deeper into the room. __"__After everything I__'__ve heard about you Winchesters, I gotta tell you, I__'__m a little underwhelmed. First Jonny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads.__" __She paused for what seemed like effect, __"__Lackluster, men.__" __She took a breath and continued following them, __"__I mean, did you really think I wouldn__'__t find you?__"_

_Meanwhile, Dean had awoken. He was a little dazed, but seemed to have his wits about him. Christine rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling and inclined her head to the retreating duo by the fireplace. Dean gave a minuscule nod and with her help stood up as quietly as they could. _

"_Actually, we were counting on it.__" __Dean ground out, his rage barely contained. Meg turned at the sound of his voice. If looks could kill, Meg would have been in flames. Dean__'__s eyes went to the ceiling, and like a mouse caught in a trap, Meg__'__s eyes followed. They had managed to keep Meg talking and unaware of the trap waiting for her on the ceiling. _

_Christine stepped out from behind Dean gave a smug, __"Gotcha."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three : Lonely Is The Night<strong>

Christine slumped forward on the back porch railing, staring out over the hundred or so cars in various disarray in the salvage yard. Inside she could hear Dean shouting at Meg. Once they had trapped her, the boys quickly tied her to a chair. Christine had at particularly disturbing exorcism she performed last week on a girl that looked a lot like Meg Masters. The girl hadn't survived. Bobby tried to tell her that the demon had killed the girl weeks ago, probably just after possessing her. Christine didn't even blink when the girl just fell over dead. Bobby thought she was just upset, that's why she didn't cry or react. Really she was just surprised that she was willing to go that far to find out about the demon that killed her father. She recognized the desperation and anguish in Dean's voice. She knew that kind of pain. At least he had the chance to save his father.

Christine let out a breath, and squaring her shoulders straightened up away from the railing. Turning to go back into the house, the sound of flesh connecting with flesh reached her ears. Dean was getting rough with Meg. Christine rushed into the den past a tight lipped Bobby and a tense Sam who had stopped the exorcism mid sentence, right up into Dean's rage filled face. "Dean!" She cried, her hands gripping his biceps, trying to get his eyes to meet hers. After a few seconds, Dean registered that he wasn't staring in to Meg's black eyes, but Christine's green ones.

"Chris?" He asked softly, somewhat in a daze.

"Dean, can I talk to you for a second?" Christine asked, forcefully pulling him away from the devil's trap and the demon writhing within it. "You have to be careful with her, don't hurt her." Christine warned when they were out of ear shot.

"What?" Dean scoffed, throwing up his hands, letting them rest on the back of head.

"She is a girl possessed by a demon, there's an innocent girl trapped in there somewhere," She explained, "can't you tell?" She asked incredulously.

Dean considered her for a moment. Then he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, "That's actually good news."

"Why?" Christine shot back. She didn't know how killing an innocent girl was good news. "You said she fell from a building Dean."

"Yeah, so?" Dean huffed.

"Yeah so?" Christine mocked, "That girl's body is broken."

Bobby returned from finding Rumsfeld who had been let loose by Meg. "That demon is the only thing keeping that girl alive. You exorcise it, that girl is gonna die."

"Listen to me, both of you." Dean's voice was intense as she'd ever heard it, "we're not gonna leave her like that."

"She is a human being!" Christine shot back. Bobby gave her a pointed look, as if to say "I told you so" about last week. Christine ducked her head to avoid eye contact with him.

"And we're gonna put her out of her misery!" Dean shouted. Bobby and Christine were silent. Christine wouldn't even meet Dean's eyes now. Dean returned to the den where Sam and Meg were. "Sam, finish it." he ordered. Sam hesitated. "Finish it!" Dean cried.

Sam opened the book again and began speaking. He only had a few phrases left. Suddenly black smoke poured from Meg's mouth toward the ceiling. Christine rushed to the girl's side when the smoke cleared. Blood oozed from her mouth, and she gave a small cough.

"She's still alive! Call 9-1-1 and get some water and blankets!" Christine cried, hurriedly working to until Meg's wrists from the chair. Dean worked on the other side while Sam called 911 and Bobby gather's supplies.

Dean looked over Meg's still bowed head to Christine. She was visibly shaken by the reality that Meg was going to die. He remembered that a demon had murdered her father. He now wondered if the demon had possessed him too. They had Meg free of the chair. It was time to lift her out. "1, 2, 3!" Dean counted off when Christine was ready. They gently laid Meg on the Persian rug, Bobby arrived with a few blankets and a glass of water. Dean supported Meg's head and offered the glass to her. Christine took the blankets and rolled one placing it under the girls head and settling the other over her broken body. Dean was trying to get information out of Meg. Christine knew they were desperate and Meg was the only shot they had to pinpointing John's location. She couldn't stay. She made sure the girl was as comfortable as she could be, then Christine found herself on the back porch again. This time she sat d'own on the porch, her legs swinging through the railing. She wished seeing Dean again wasn't because his father was in trouble. As much as she disagreed with the man's methods, there was an unexplainable helplessness that came from losing a parent. She was lucky to have Bobby.

Dean and Sam gathered their belongings, Bobby gave Sam The Key of Solomon. Meg had passed away before they could pinpoint an exact location. They at least have a direction to go, 'by the river' and 'sunrise'. They bid Bobby goodbye and made their way out of the house back to the Impala. Sam emerged first and nodded at Christine with a polite wave. They had never been really close. Her and Dean however, that was a totally different story. Dean came out next. He almost left the porch and headed for the garage before he realized Christine was sitting there instead of stuck under some car like Bobby thought.

"Didn't even make it to the garage?" Dean asked settling down next to her. Christine just sighed and leaned into him for support. Dean leaned close to meet her and spoke softly, "I know I'd said we'd talk, and we'll talk, but I have to find my Dad. We've got a few hints as to where he might be." He took a breath, searching her eyes for understanding. "Chris, I don't want to just leave, I-"

Christine cut him off by placing a finger to his lips. "Dean, go get your father. Do what I couldn't do. Save him." She whispered, tears spilling over and down her cheeks.

Dean nodded and helped her stand before wrapping her up in a hug. "I wish things were different." He confessed, pulling back to look at her again, "Would you come with us?" Dean asked, almost afraid she would say yes.

Christine stopped herself from running upstairs for her go bag. She took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. "Dean, I'm more useful here. This is too big to have your attention divided. I'll be here safe, you just come back to me in one piece." Her tears were gone now, just a sad smile playing at her lips.

"Yes ma'am." He teased, releasing her. "I'll call you when we're on our way back. Bobby asked me to bring him 'round anyway." He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but closed it. He turned and jogged to the Impala, throwing his backpack in the back window, sliding smoothly into the driver's seat. The Impala roared to life, and just before he put the car into gear. Dean looked up at her and shouted, "See ya Chris!" The Impala launched like a bottle rocket and was gone in a cloud of dust.

"See ya Winchester." Christine mumbled, she could hear sirens in the distance.

The authorities arrived. Bobby explained they found the girl by the side of the road when they came back from their trip into town. They had loaded her into the backseat of Christine's car and tried to get her comfortable and immediately called 9-1-1. The police took their statements, and since there wasn't any blood or obvious signs of struggle they left after an hour of investigation.

Christine found herself back on the porch again. The sun had began to set, and the breeze carried with it the scent of rushing water and grease.

"Aww, they'll be back." Bobby drawled, coming to stand beside her.

"Bobby!" Christine jumped at the sound his voice. "I swear!" She exclaimed.

"Jumpy are we?" Bobby chuckled, he turned to her, and studied her for a moment. It was one thing to be reunited with Dean, it was another entirely to be reunited then swiftly separated again. He placed a hand on her shoulder, "You okay sweetie?" Only Uncle Bobby could call her sweetie.

Christine sighed, "No," She shook her head, "I'm not." Dean coming back, surprised her. Dean leaving again was expected giving the circumstances, but not truly welcome.

Bobby offered his arms, and she found herself letting him wrap her up for a moment. "I know you said you would stay around here, but I think I've got a case in a town just outside of Minneapolis. It seems just like a simple salt and burn, but I don't have anyone close to it. We're actually the closest hunters at the moment."

Christine considered it for a moment. It might be nice to actually get out and do something instead of tinker on some cars and worry herself silly. "Sure, why not?" She shrugged, pushing past him to the house. Bobby followed and held the screen door as she went through. She hung a left and went straight up the stairs, while Bobby went into the kitchen to fix some lunch.

"St. Cloud Minnesota." Bobby said when Christine came into the kitchen. She carried a duffel bag and a laptop case. He handed her a credit card with the name Roxanne Mitchell on it. "Local police department has two bodies on its hand that have been strangled. The weird part is, both victims were alone at the time and neighbors didn't see anything or anyone leaving or entering either house at the time of death. Both vics live alone, so its not usual for them not to get many visitors its just not normal-"

"For them to end up dead." Christine finished with a nod. "Gotcha Bobby, I'll head up there and take care of it pronto." She grabbed one of the two sandwiches Bobby had made. "You call if you hear from the Winchesters." With that, she exited the house.

Christine's car of choice was a beautiful 1972 Dodge Challenger that Bobby helped her rebuild while she was in high school. Two toned, black on top with a gorgeous ruby red on the bottom, the car was a gem. Most guys liked to comment on her car when she was on a hunt alone, asking her if her daddy knew she was driving that. If they only knew.

She opened the trunk, and lifted the warded inside lid to reveal her arsenal. Foam custom cut for her various knives and stakes as well as her favorite revolver, glock, and sawed off. There were a few items like silver bullet mags, as well as rock salt rounds that had their own compartments. A fresh bag of rock salt she had gotten last week went in as well as her trusty spade, a can of lighter fluid and a bic lighter she lifted from Dean's pocket an hour ago. On second thought, she withdrew the lighter and placed it in her pocket, just to have a piece of Dean close to her for the moment. Satisfied that she had everything she needed, she shut the lid and placed her duffle bag on top and finally the trunk lid itself. A quick check of the painted wards on the trunk put her mind at ease and she climbed into the driver's seat. Now to pick her soundtrack. The glove compartment was the place to look if you ever needed any classic rock. ever. After shuffling through a few cassettes, she found Def Leppard, Hysteria. In it went. The tape had stopped on side two the last time she played it. The first chords of the title track sang through her custom speakers. Closing the glove box, she settled her map in the front seat and turned the key.

Roxy's engine roared to life with a delightful growl. Bobby had taken to calling the car Roxanne. He said it was because of the glowing red she had painted the bottom. She put her in gear and drove off towards little St. Cloud.

The hunt was almost too easy. She arrived into town pretty late, so she booked a room and grabbed the hunter four. The next day proved to be really fruitful. The two victims were brothers and the vengeful spirit turned out to be their aunt who had looked after them as kids. Posing as an FBI agent looking into the recent murders, she liaised with the local sheriff. The sheriff was really nice, but overtly sweet. Christine had to lie and say she was married to get him to back off. The boys had never married, and didn't have any kids. She set to the street to see what she could find. She interviewed neighbors and found one that divulged the information she needed.

"Sally Mae died about a five years ago. Car accident. Joey, the eldest claimed to see her last week. He was mowing his lawn and she was standing at the end of the driveway. I told him he was crazy." Jasper, Joey's neighbor told her while they were standing by his mailbox. "The crazier thing was Drew said the same thing three days ago. That night I went over to his house and found him on the floor in his kitchen, just like Joey. I just don't know what to make of it." Christine thanked Jasper for his time an headed back to her motel room. Using her laptop, she quickly found were the old woman was planted and packed her things. She planned on skipping town as soon as the bones were lit.

The bone yard was easy to find, just on the out skirts of town. The sun was just beginning to set. Pulling out her spade, and putting her salt and lighter fluid in a back pack, she headed into the cemetery. She found the headstone, tucked away in the corner of the yard, under a big willow tree. An hour and a half later, she hit something solid. The casket was difficult to get open, but after using her crow bar she had stuck in her back pocket, she had the lid open.

The spade came up first, then she hoisted herself up out of the grave to the level of the living. Now fully dark, her surroundings hid what she was about to do even better. She pulled out the salt and spread it over the bones, along with a good coating of lighter fluid. Taking the bandana she had used to wipe her face while she dug, she took out Dean's lighter. Suddenly her phone rang, classic rock guitar breaking the just dark silence. Bobby, Maybe he had heard from the Winchesters. She lit the edge of the fabric quickly and dropped it in the grave. As the flames spread, she answered the call.

"Hey Bobby, what's up?" Christine said quietly, still trying to maintain a controlled atmosphere around her and remain on high alert for anyone in the area.

"Hey kid, uh. I just got a call from Sam. I'm heading to the hospital in Sioux Falls. Chris, the boys and John. They were in an accident." Bobby's voice was sober, there was something he wasn't telling her. "They were railroaded by a semi, Sam says the driver was possessed. I'm headed there to tow the Impala."

A sob tore at her throat. "Is Dean," She choked, "Is Dean okay?"

"Christine," Bobby sighed, "He's in bad shape." Dean was alive, but not okay. She quickly grabbed her bag and made her way back to her car.

"I'm on my way." She said, wiping away the tears that had blurred her vision. Pocketing her phone she loaded her back pack in the trunk. Her photographic memory got her back the way she came without even a glance at her map. Christine found herself putting in her tape of Billy Squire. The first chords of "Lonely Is The Night" helped her calm down a bit. She hung a left unto the highway and roared off into the night headed straight for Sioux Falls Memorial Hospital.

* * *

><p><em>from the author's desk…<em>

_Lonely Is The Night - Billy Squire - I picture this song on Christine's playlist of sad songs, mostly because this song is also motivational in a round about way. She doesn't just let things happen, she fights and makes things happen. _

_This chapter did not go like I thought it would. I'm along for the ride as much as you all are! Thank you to all who have followed/favorited this fic. I'm tickled pink. The reviews are so encouraging. Keep 'em coming! _

_xoxo _

_Lumora The White _


	4. Bad Moon Rising

**Long, Long Way From Home**

_Previously…_

_The spade came up first, then she hoisted herself up out of the grave to the level of the living. Now fully dark, her surroundings hid what she was about to do even better. She pulled out the salt and spread it over the bones, along with a good coating of lighter fluid. Taking the bandana she had used to wipe her face while she dug, she took out Dean's lighter. Suddenly her phone rang, classic rock guitar breaking the just dark silence. Bobby, Maybe he had heard from the Winchesters. She lit the edge of the fabric quickly and dropped it in the grave. As the flames spread, she answered the call. __  
><em>

"_Hey Bobby, what__'__s up?__" __Christine said quietly, still trying to maintain a controlled atmosphere around her and remain on high alert for anyone in the area. _

"_Hey kid, uh. I just got a call from Sam. I__'__m heading to the hospital in Sioux Falls. Chris, the boys and John. They were in an accident.__" __Bobby__'__s voice was sober, there was something he wasn__'__t telling her. __"__They were railroaded by a semi, Sam says the driver was possessed. I__'__m headed to the police department there to tow the Impala.__" _

_A sob tore at her throat. __"__Is Dean,__" __She choked, __"__Is Dean okay?__" _

"_Christine,__" __Bobby sighed, __"__He__'__s in bad shape.__" __Dean was alive, but not okay. She quickly grabbed her bag and made her way back to her car. _

"_I__'__m on my way.__" __She said, wiping away the tears that had blurred her vision. Her photographic memory got her back the way she came without even a glance at her map. Christine found herself putting in her tape of Billy Squire. The first chords of __"__Lonely Is The Night__" __helped her calm down a bit. She hung a left unto the highway and roared off into the night headed straight for Sioux Falls Memorial Hospital._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four : <strong>**Bad Moon Rising**

Sam sat on the floor of Dean's room, watching as the planchette spelled the letters, R-E-A-P. "A Reaper." he concluded aloud. "Is it after you?" He asked. The planchette moved once more this time to the world "yes". "Okay," Sam said in response, "Dad'll know what to do." With that he got up and quickly left Dean's room. He arrived at John's room and found it empty.

The front desk was extremely busy when Christine arrived. She tried Bobby's cell to see if he had made it back to the hospital after towing the Impala home. He didn't answer. She found Sam's number in her phone, glancing about the waiting room one more time before pressing send. Just before she pushed the button she spied a frantic Sam emerge from the patient hallway. Their eyes met across the frenzy of people. "Sam!" She cried.

"Christine?" Sam exclaimed in disbelief. He waved her over to him and wrapped her up in a big hug. Still with an arm around her shoulders, he guided her past the front desk. Once they were alone in the hallway he turned to her. "What are you doing here?" He asked.

Christine found herself reaching for his injured face, "Making sure you Winchesters are alright. Are you okay?" she asked, her fingers smoothing along his jaw.

"Yeah, I'm fine, these are mostly from the fighting we did with the demons when we got Dad back." He assured her, covering her hands with his own. "I didn't know you cared so much." He whispered.

Christine realized he was taking her concern too far, probably the trauma had scrambled his brain a bit, "I do," She quickly took back her hands and stepped back from him. Sam seemed to shrug off her rejection. "How's your dad? Is Dean awake?"

Sam sighed, "Dad's gone from his room. I haven't found him all night. Dean's a ghost, and-"

"Dean's dead?" Christine exclaimed trying to track with him.

"No!" Sam cried, "No, he's in a coma. There's a reaper after him and-"

Christine was already moving into the room Sam had stopped them in front of. She had recognized Dean's hair immediately. Dean lay unmoving on the hospital bed, a tube shoved down his throat, at least three IV's stuck in his left arm. He had a few scrapes on his jaw and right cheek and a nasty gash on his forehead above his left eye. Christine took his battered hand in hers and settled in the chair pulled up next to the bed. Sam had disappeared again, maybe he went to check his father's room again.

Spirit Dean hovered in the corner of the room, watching Christine fuss over his bedclothes. Screw the heat between Bobby and his Dad. He should have gone back for his best friend. She was always meeting him stride for stride, challenge for challenge. She never backed down from any scheme they came up with, whether it was stealing booze from Bobby's liquor cabinet, or swiping Rumsfeld's bone. Both Bobby and Rumsfeld were forces to be reckoned with and Christine showed no fear. Even at sixteen, he knew there was something special about Christine. You don't just meet a girl who can bullseye bottles off a fence after just a few tries, and can pin you the first time in a fight, everyday. "I should have called or at least written a letter. I'm sorry Chris." He apologized, knowing she couldn't hear him. She had resolved to laying her forehead on his hand that she had cradled within her own. As soon as his spoke, her head snapped up. She took a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders and casually sitting back in the chair as if to covertly survey the room. Maybe she was more aware of him than he thought.

He came close to Christine, her eyes had gone wide, as if she was trying to figure out if he was there. It was strange to stare into her eyes and they not register his presence. They were still as beautiful as he remembered. "Dean?" She whispered, her face turning away from him just enough. He summoned some strength he had regained after going full on Swayze on that glass in Dad's room, and pressed a kiss to her temple. She reacted immediately, her fingers flying up to her brow, whirling towards him. She looked around, searching for a source to the pressure she had felt. "Sam told me you're up and walking around," She whispered. "That better be you." she warned, thinking that if it wasn't she needed the iron rounds she had packed in her pistol. Dean found himself face to face with Tess again. This time she didn't look quite right.

Sam reappeared. He cocked his head to one side as he observed Christine reaching for what he guessed to be her gun. "Christine?" He asked gently, his hands coming up by his sides in a mild "surrender" gesture.

"Sam!" She exclaimed, her hand letting go of her waist and settling back around Dean's. Suddenly Dean's eye flew open. His heart rate monitor started beeping and he was gasping around the tube shoved down his throat. "Oh my God! Dean!" Christine cried, "He's awake!" She tried to get him to lie back down, but a few nurses and doctors swarmed around him, causing her to let go of his hand. A nurse quickly removed the breathing tube, and adjusted a setting on the machine next to him.

Once the frenzy had died down. the doctor looked at his chart and vitals and shook his head in disbelief. "Your contusion is gone, your bones are healed, heck even the scaring around your ribs is gone." He shook his head again, "You must have a some guardian angel, kid, you've got a completely clean bill of health." With that he swept from the room in all his white coated glory.

"Thanks doc," Dean said with his usual shit eating grin. Christine had settled back in the chair by his bed. Sam was all smiles, and kept blinking like he expected Dean to just disappear. Sam's phone rang, it was Bobby. He answered it, mouthing "Bobby," as he headed out into the hallway.

Dean and Christine were alone. Finally. Christine found herself unable to meet his gaze. She couldn't believe he was okay. "You heard me." He murmured, not as a question, more like a statement.

"I felt you too." She whispered, her voice breaking, fingers lingering by her brow again.

Dean smiled. "I really am sorry Chris. You didn't deserve that." He said.

Christine shrugged, "We were just kids. We both know this world is bigger and more complicated than they two of us staying in touch." She smiled that same sad smile she had when he left that night, "You know, saving people, hunting things, the family business." She explained with a knowing smile.

"We are, uh," He cleared his throat, "were, best friends. You didn't deserve to be deserted just because Bobby and my Dad couldn't get along. Especially when I-" He stopped mid sentence as Sam returned to the room.

"When you what?" She prodded, drawing his gaze back to hers. Sam gave her a smile and nod, settling himself at the end of Dean's bed.

Dean swallowed hard. Was he willing to admit this in front of Sam? Son of a bitch. "Especially when I care about you." He said quickly, his eyes darting away from her face.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" She teased, leaning closer to him.

"You heard me." He mumbled, picking at the IV in his arm. He took a breath then asked Sam, "Where's Dad? He okay?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly John Winchester appeared in the doorway. Christine instantly felt very out of place. John smiled at both of his boys and gave Christine a warm greeting, "Why hello, Christine. You grew up fast." He chuckled, taking a few strides into the room. John Winchester had always given her butterflies. You could tell where Dean got his smile and "devil may care" swagger from. This man, right here.

"Hi Mr. Winchester." Christine smiled, getting to her feet. Dean could tell Christine felt out of place, her posture had stiffened and she wouldn't hardly look at him. "I'm glad you're awake Dean. I think I'm going to grab a cup of coffee, let you visit and all that." She gushed, all but rushing from the room. She paused just out of sight to hear their conversation.

"She grew up nice." John teased coming closer to Dean's bed.

"Shut up." Dean shot back with a grin.

"I'm serious, she's gorgeous." John assured him.

Christine didn't want to hear anymore. She fled down the hall to the kitchenette for patients and families. She found a coffee maker, empty. A few cabinets and drawers later and she had the coffee pot bubbling away. The smell alone revived her. She had driven all night. St. Cloud was only 5 hours away. She hadn't gotten Bobby's call until 1am. Then she had sat in the waiting room for almost an hour before Sam showed up.

The coffee pot finished purring and let out a pleasant puff of steam. She poured herself a cup brimming with the steaming rich liquid. Sam appeared behind her, and cleared his throat to let her know of his presence. "Hey," He said softly. She had moved further into the closet like space in search of a lid. He took her place at the coffee maker.

"Hey Sam," Christine replied, turning to face him.

"Dad wanted me to get him some caffeine." Sam explained.

"Hey, you're all grown up, or should I say over grown now." She laughed, "No judgement here. I live on this stuff." She swallowed. Sam was really tall, and super handsome. It was kind of alarming how attractive all three Winchester's were. "I should have taken orders." She mused.

Sam shook his head, "No, Dad and I started in on each other again, like always. I think the coffee is just a way for us to clear our heads." He smiled, his gaze on the cup.

"Very smart." Christine remarked, inching by him to escape the close quarters with him. He followed her out of the kitchenette. "I'm going to see if Dean needs anything." She explained, taking a sip from her cup.

"Okay, I'll give this to Dad and we'll get out of here soon." He gave her small nod, and headed down the hall She headed to the left towards Dean's room, he continued to John's room on the right.

Christine found Dean already up and about. However, he was only half dressed. His jeans and boots were already back in place. He was currently shirtless and rifling through an army green duffle bag. The furrow of his brow told her a vital piece of his wardrobe was missing. "Son of a bitch!" He muttered, still unaware of her presence. She cleared her throat, his eyes flew to the door, finding her eyes. "Son of a bitch!" He repeated, earning a giggle from Christine.

"What's the problem?" Christine asked, entering the room.

Dean rolled his eyes, "I can't find my shirt," he sighed disgustedly.

Christine laughed aloud. "I don't understand how that's a problem." She teased, rounding the bed to look in the closet that held his personal items.

Dean smirked. He could feel the sexual tension sparking between them. He turned to the closet, blocking Christine's exit from the space. She could feel his presence behind her as she drew the door closed. Dean inched closer, placing his hands on the wood frame, up around her ears. "Find anything interesting?" He asked innocently, waiting for her to turn around.

"Well," she started to say, whirling around to discover Dean much closer than she calculated, her hands coming into contact with his bare torso. "I think your shirt-" Her words trailed off as Dean came closer still, her hands dropping to her sides.

"You think my shirt?" He asked, his mouth dangerously close to hers. Christine was having trouble breathing let alone forming coherent thought.

"Uh, your shirt?" She breathed, not sure how to handle this mess. She wanted desperately to kiss Dean, heck she'd wanted this ten years ago. "It probably got ruined in the accident." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Dean's eyes were light and playful. She could tell he was enjoying pinning her here. "Makes sense. Guess I have nothing to wear then." He replied cheekily, his eyes lingering on her mouth. He wanted to kiss her so badly, to make up for the lost time between them.

There was a loud commotion in the hall. Someone was screaming for help. Dean straightened, and took the shirt he had been wearing for his hospital stay from the tray table where he laid it. He knew that voice, "Sammy?" he shouted. Christine was already sprinting down the hall to towards John's room. Dean followed her and they both found Sam in the hall, doctors and nurses swarming around John's bed. A doctor using the crash cart was asking for more voltage.

Christine put her hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. She could tell that John was gone for good. His lips were already blue. Dean noticed she was about to collapse and wrapped his arms around her. She felt her knees give and she clung to him for support.

The doctor in charge had a nurse begin compressions. After a few moments he said, "Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it." He said soberly. "Time of death, 10:41 AM."

* * *

><p><em>from the author<em>_'__s desk__…_

_Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival. This song is classic for foreboding and the like. This song embodies exactly what I think Dean was thinking when John leaned close and told him all those things about Sammy and what he had done._

_Up next we get a week or so off at Bobby__'__s house before the clown case. Let__'__s see where that puts Christine and Dean__'__s relationship._

_Thank you for all the follows, favorites, reviews and views! You guys rock!_

_xoxo_

_Lumora The White_


	5. Bad Company

**Long, Long Way From Home**

_Previously…_

_There was a loud commotion in the hall. Someone was screaming for help. Dean straightened, and took the shirt he had been wearing for his hospital stay from the tray table where he laid it. He knew that voice, "Sammy?" he shouted. Christine was already sprinting down the hall to towards John's room. Dean followed her and they both found Sam in the hall, doctors and nurses swarming around John's bed. A doctor using the crash cart was asking for more voltage. _

_Christine put her hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. She could tell that John was gone for good. His lips were already blue. Dean noticed she was about to collapse and wrapped his arms around her. She felt her knees give and she clung to him for support. _

_The doctor in charge had a nurse begin compressions. After a few moments he said, "Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it." He said soberly. "Time of death, 10:41 AM."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five : Bad Company<strong>

Bobby arrived at the hospital to find the three kids waiting for him in the lobby. He had put on a suit and posed as an undertaker so they could give John a proper hunter's funeral back at the salvage. Sam was reading a home and garden magazine, no doubt he was just staring at the page, it didn't look like he had gotten very far into the volume. Dean sat with his arm around Christine, her head rested on his shoulder, and from the looks of it, she had dozed off. Dean met his eyes, and Bobby almost stopped in his tracks from the impact. Dean's eyes swam with indescribable sadness colored with barely contained anger. Bobby spoke with the front desk and informed the receptionist he was here for the body of John Winchester. She picked up the phone and confirmed his request.

"Chris," Dean whispered, moving his shoulder ever so slightly. She shifted a bit. "Bobby's here." He said, pressing his lips to her temple. Her eyelashes fluttered and their eyes met.

"I'm awake," she mumbled, sitting up straight, running fire engine red tipped fingers through her blonde hair. She stood up and straightened her black leather jacket, fishing her keys out of her right pocket. She leaned down to Dean who was still seated, watching her, and kissed his cheek. She straightened with a sad smile turning to follow Bobby out of the lobby.

Dean and Sam followed a nurse down to the morgue, while Christine and Bobby pulled their vehicles around back. She kept Roxy idling and watched as Dean and Sam helped Bobby load their father's body into the back. Once they had John securely in the back, Christine watched through misty eyes as Bobby pulled each boy into a monstrous hug. They weren't usually so demonstrative with affection. She felt blessed to be a part of a family that loved as deeply as they fought. The three men talked for a minute, then Bobby waved at her, and climbed in the driver's seat. Sam gave his brother a hug and sent a wave toward Christine, climbing in opposite Bobby. Dean was headed her way. Christine gripped the steering wheel and studied his melancholy striding form. He had his hands in the pockets of John's old leather jacket, his gaze not quite at his feet. The significance of him wearing the jacket never struck her until now. It looked a little big in the waist and hips, but suited his broad shoulders well. Wearing it now seemed more appropriate than ever.

Dean was thankful for Bobby. He didn't know how they would have gotten his Dad out of the hospital without him. Bobby had suggested they all head back to his place and give John a proper hunter's funeral, that's when Sam offered to drive back with him. Dean knew that he should go with Christine, he didn't want her to have to make the hour drive alone. He didn't want to leave his Dad either. He knew Christine worked in the salvage yard with Bobby. He had no idea she had restored a 1972 Dodge Challenger to mint. The car purred a lot like the Impala. The midnight black top half gleamed in the setting sunlight, while the deep red bottom glowed like a jewel. He was impressed at her handiwork. Bobby had commented before climbing into the hearse that Christine helped restore it, but did every last detail of the Challenger herself. She had only let him check her work. Dean thought of the Impala. He wondered if he was willing to let Christine help him, or if he was still going to go it alone.

He reached the passenger door and pulled it open. He settled comfortably in the black leather seat, and met Christine's concerned gaze. "I'm okay Chris," He drawled, his left arm coming up to rest on the open window sill.

Christine nodded, turning her attention to putting the car into gear and following Bobby out onto the main road. Dean could hear music coming from the radio, and curious as to what she had playing, he turned the volume knob. Glittery pop piano oozed from the speakers and Steve Perry's classic vocal reverberated through his chest. "What's in our hearts, there's never time to say, need you tonight, lover don't fade away. Like a photograph, that time won't erase…" Mr. Perry sang, "Why can't this night go on forever?"

"Seriously!" Christine muttered, reaching for the volume knob intending to click it off. Instead Dean grabbed her hand and squeezed. The song swelled and then finished with a beautiful guitar solo and piano pad. The tape clicked and stopped, signaling the end of the cassette. He let go of her hand to open the glove box. He guessed that to be a good place to find more tapes. He was right. A few dozen tapes fell out at his feet. Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, Journey, Foreigner, Def Leppard again, The Rolling Stones, Metallica, Def Leppard, Black Sabbath, Bob Seger, Bad Company, Def Leppard, there was a lot of Leppard. He continued to browse her impressive collection, picking up the tapes that fell on the floor, placing them back in the now empty glove box. After sorting through them, he found a dusty black cassette with a piece of masking tape on one side. Neat cursive spelled out his name in black permanent marker. Intrigued that she had a mixtape with his name on it, he stole a glance at her. She was currently chewing her lip and letting her left hand drift out the window in the breeze. The element of surprise was on his side.

Christine was extremely distracted by the man sitting in her front seat. Here she was, driving her proudest achievement with the man who starred in her dreams along for the ride. Now he was rifling through her cassette collection. The mortification level was sky high. "I've collected those from the cars Bobby and I salvage." She had said when the tapes tumbled out of the glove box onto the floor.

"Somebody's a Leppard junkie." Dean commented, waving the album 'Hysteria' in front of her nose.

"Joe Elliott is a rock god." She shot back, flipping down her visor to reveal a union jack emblazoned on the mirror cover.

Dean laughed out loud. The sound startled him. His father had just died in front of him, mere hours ago, and here he was traveling down a middle of nowhere two lane highway with a beautiful woman blasting 80's hair metal, and laughing. Laughing. He wasn't sure if he should thank her or never speak to her again. The things Christine did to him and could get him to do had him terrified.

"Yeah, you sure it doesn't have anything to do with the last name?" Dean teased, popping in the mixtape he had found. The first few chords of the first track brought him back to the first time he saw her a few days ago. "Okay, I'll bite." He said, swiveling a bit in his seat so he could face her.

Shock crossed Christine's face. "Oh no, not that one!" she cried, "Please Dean!"

"Why not?" Dean teased, "It has my name on it. I think I have the right to hear it."

The mixtape she created the summer after He never came back. Sixteen. She was so naive then. It have been years since she played that tape. Christine could tell he wanted an explanation as to why she had picked each track. She swallowed hard, and gripped the steering wheel firmly. "Well, Long, Long Way From Home." She cleared her throat, "It reminds me of your dedication the family business. You were always so sure of yourself, but I could tell you wanted there to be more to life than just the hunt." She glanced sideways at him. "Don't get me wrong, you live for the hunt." She sighed, "I guess I just imagined you'd come back eventually, and this was what you were telling me when you left that night."

Dean considered her explanation. She was right. He did live for the hunt. He also thought there could be so much more to life. The track ended and the next one began. Bad Company. This girl had great taste. "I was born with a six gun in my hand " He sang, "behind a gun, I'll make my final stand."

"That's why they call me!" Christine cut in, "Bad company, I can't deny. Bad company, 'till the day I die." She continued to sing and he thought of the life they led. This song pretty much summed it up. They really were bad company for regular people with ordinary lives. Relationships could never amount to much when he was always moving from town to town, never visiting the same one twice.

"You seem to know me pretty well for not actually seeing me for ten years." Dean mused after a few more songs played and the miles rolled by. Tracks by Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin and Journey were the perfect soundtrack for the life of a hunter.

She shrugged, "I had Bobby. I also had my Dad's journal. It seems he shared your Dad's love for the classics." She grinned, feeling closer to him already. There was something about sharing this tape with him that had her a little off kilter.

Another Foreigner track. She decided to sing this one too. He settled back in the seat and listened to her belt out the familiar lyrics, "Rev on the the red line, you're on your own. Feels like a lifetime, but soon you'll know."

During the guitar solo he asked, "Why this one?"

"I imagined myself some sort of rebel while I was in high school. I never actually did anything to warrant my wild imagination, but I loved to day dream while I tinkered on cars in the salvage yard. This song and its attitude had you written all over it." She gushed. "I think I imagined you in that sexy Impala beating all the boyfriends of the girl's that made fun of me." She sighed in remembrance, " I didn't socialize much outside of class. I didn't think partying was the answer to being awkward and anxious about life. Bobby gave me that piano and taught me to work on cars. I was content with that."

They continued like this for awhile. Dean was enjoying this walk down memory lane with her. It told him more about her than simple conversation or trading likes and dislikes ever could. It was also a pleasant distraction from the reality waiting for them at Bobby's.

Another Bad Company track, this time a little more intimate. Just after a few chords, he knew exactly what song it was. He looked over a Christine and saw her cheeks redden. "Walking down this rocky road, wondering where my life is leading, rolling on to the bitter end," The lyrics of 'Ready For Love' filled the thick silence that settled in the car. The song continued and he turned down the volume a bit, listening to her singing the lyrics softly. He could tell she truly like the music. The tape was dusty, so it hadn't been played for a while, still she knew every word. Obviously this music that touched her in some way.

They rolled into the salvage yard as the track ended. The tape clicked signaling the end of their journey with impeccable timing. Dean sat still while Christine removed the tape and shoved it back into the glove box with the others. She exited the car and he hurried to catch up with her. They had parked by the house. The hearse was pulled in next to the garage across the salvage yard. Christine rounded the car and he stepped in front of her to stop her retreat. "Chris," He whispered. She looked at the ground. He slowly stepped in toward her and placed a hand on her hip and a finger under her chin to gently lift it so he could see her eyes.

Christine felt exhausted. She didn't want to look at Dean, she was afraid he would see how vulnerable she was. She was afraid he wouldn't think she was strong enough to be with someone like him. "I'm sorry," she said, sort of by default. She was sorry for making a mixtape in his memory. It seemed so childish.

"I'm not." He answered, he considered the mixtape to be somewhat sweet. She was only sixteen for crying out loud. He remembered sixteen. He thought he was one tough son of a bitch. He was really just a naive kid.

Christine relaxed a little into his embrace. His fingers had left her chin and buried themselves in her hair, pulling her deeper into his arms. "I was afraid you'd run away screaming," she whispered into his chest.

He scoffed, "I guess it could be creepy, but we were best friends." He shrugged, "music is who you are, so it makes sense you made something like a mixtape to deal with the loss." Loss. His mind suddenly flooded with the reality of what was still facing him. He pulled away a little, and steered them towards the garage. Before they left the car, Christine opened the trunk so they could grab salt and lighter fluid. Not wanting to let go of her, he settled for holding her hand as they walked toward Bobby and Sam.

Bobby noticed right away the light in Christine's eyes. She was blossoming under Dean's attention. Dean had quite the reputation with women, even at the tender ago of twenty seven, he was known for his one night stands and weekend flings. Bobby knew a talk with the eldest Winchester was in order. First, they had to bury John.

Christine let go of Dean's hand so they could help carry John to the funeral pyre. Once John was settled, Christine stepped forward and sprinkled salt over the white cloth Bobby had wrapped him in from head to toe. Sam came next with the lighter fluid, it was almost as if they were anointing John's body. They all knew this ritual by heart. Christine remembered the silver lighter she had lifted from Dean's pocket. Upon further inspection she found the initials JW carved into the lid. She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to Dean.

His lips twisted into a sad smile as he took the lighter from her hand. He stepped forward and stared for a moment at his father's body. Dean didn't realize he was so angry until this very moment. He was angry that his Dad had made a deal. He was angry that his Dad left him, left Sammy. With practiced ease, he flicked the lighter and stared for a moment into the flame. Then he threw it at the base of the pyre, igniting the kindling and logs below. He stepped back and locked eyes with Christine across the rising flames. Her eyes were filled with tears, some spilling over and running down her flushed cheeks. He could tell she was thinking of her own father.

Christine was lost. She found herself transported back in time to sixteen years ago when she stood in this very spot, watching her father's body burn. She didn't understand then why they had salted and burned her father's body following the service at the funeral home. Her mother never stopped mumbling, "to keep us safe, to keep us safe," Now she understood burning her father's corpse insured a demon couldn't reanimate it, or that her father's spirit didn't linger here on earth. She cleared her throat, and with her eyes never leaving Dean's she softly sang.

_Carry on my wayward son_

_There__'__ll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don__'__t you cry no more _

Dean fought back a sob. Christine was honoring his father with her beautiful gift of music, he was suddenly sorry that John had never heard her sing. She only sang a few lines, then he felt her hand slide gently into his. He gripped her hand as if his life depended on it. Sam was also bleary eyed and breathing heavy. Christine gave Sam a hug when she let go of Dean's hand, and headed back toward the house. Bobby also disappeared into the darkness surrounding the pyre. He guessed that they wanted to give them some space.

Sam spoke first, "Before Dad," He swallowed, "before he," his voice broke, "did he say anything to you?" He asked. Dean remained silent, tears welling up in his eyes. "about anything?" Sam sounded desperate. He was having a difficult time understanding why Dad had left them with little to no explanation.

Dean thought for a moment of how to respond to Sam. Dad had charged him with keeping Sammy safe. That settled it. "No," Dean choked out, his tears finally spilling over.

* * *

><p>Christine stood at the kitchen sink, washing the few dishes that had accumulated there. Sam wandered in and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He settled himself at the table and opened a book that had been left there. Bobby was sitting at the desk in the den, leafing through a volume on the history of cross road demons. After a few minutes Sam stood up, placing his bottle in the recycling he said, "I'm turning in." With that he grabbed two more beers from the fridge and disappeared into the foyer and up the stairs.<p>

Christine turned around from the sink just in time for him to go through the kitchen door. "Night Sam." He didn't stop. She sighed, turning back around to drain the water out of the sink and ring out her wash cloth.

"He'll be okay," Bobby assured her as he came into the kitchen. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. Christine found herself remembering how Bobby had taken on the role of her father so smoothly. She would have never know he could be so affectionate from the way other hunters described Bobby. If she hadn't lived with the man, she would of assumed him to be just another crotchety old man. Instead he was a Godsend.

Christine nodded, "I'm glad they're not alone." She didn't know what she would have done if she had been alone when her father died. She may have felt that way at first, but letting Bobby in was the best decision she could have made.

Bobby nodded, "Me too." He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, "I'm beat. See ya in the morning kid." He still called her that. He probably always would. Bobby took the glass of whiskey he'd been nursing at the desk and disappeared up the stairs.

Christine gazed out the kitchen window, the flames had died down, she could only see the glowing embers along the ground. She turned from the window, and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She wanted to wait up for Dean. She didn't want him to come back to the house alone. Taking her glass, the bottle of whiskey and an empty glass she went up the stairs, and into her bedroom, leaving the door open. Settling on her bed with her back agains the wall, she switched on the stereo on the bookshelf next to her. She put in a mix CD she made last week. It had landed on the track, "All I Want Is Everything." Perfect. She adjusted the volume so the words were clear, but the music remained contained to her room and waited until Dean returned.

* * *

><p><em>from the author's desk…<em>

_Bad Company - Bad Company - I've always thought this song to be a hunter's anthem. I wanted to honor John Winchester's memory with this tune. This chapter was really hard to write. I had a hard time finding a stopping point. I hope you enjoyed it. _

_Thank you to all the readers. Thanks for adding this to your following and/or favorite's page. I appreciate the reviews. You encourage me so much! _

_Up next we actually get down to business..._

_xoxo_

_Lumora The W_hite


	6. Move With Me Slowly

**Long, Long Way From Home**

_Previously…_

_Christine gazed out the kitchen window, the flames had died down, she could only see the glowing embers along the ground. She turned from the window, and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She wanted to wait up for Dean. She didn't want him to come back to the house alone. Taking her glass, the bottle of whiskey and an empty glass she went up the stairs, and into her bedroom. She deposited her mini bar on the nightstand and quickly changed her clothes. She decided on leaving the door open so Dean would see her light and know she was awake. Settling on her bed with her back against the wall, she switched on the stereo on the bookshelf next to her. She put in a mix CD she made last week. It had landed on the track, "All I Want Is Everything." Perfect. She adjusted the volume so the words were clear, but the music remained contained to her room and waited until Dean returned._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six : Move With Me Slowly<strong>

The back door whined open and quickly fell shut with a soft thud. The night was still warm, so the exterior door had been left wide open. Dean had made sure the fire wouldn't spread and covered the pyre with a fire retardant cloth so they could collect his father's ashes when they were cooler. Dean found himself going straight for Christine's room. He found the door wide open. He hesitated a moment before filling the door frame with his form.

"Sam turned in for the night." Her voice sounded like velvet in the dimness of her room. Dean turned and quietly shut the door. Christine fought the creeping feeling of being trapped and instead forced herself to relax. 'Its only because I've wanted this so much,' She told herself.

Dean took a few steps toward her, "Bobby too?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She nodded, scooting towards him. Without hesitation she poured him a glass of whiskey from her nightstand and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks. She glanced up at him through her lashes, trying to get up the courage to somehow comfort him. Dean slid across her bed so his back was resting against the wall. Christine set her glass down and undid the laces on his boots. They hit the floor with two ominous thuds. He drew his legs up to his chest to rest his elbows on his knees.

Dean took a couple of sips from his glass to get the warmth of the whiskey in his system. He was watching Christine flit about her room, straightening piles of books and picking up discarded clothing and putting it in her laundry basket. Her room was mostly the same, the furniture hadn't changed. The walls now were painted a soft cream instead of the original pink, and instead of boy band posters everywhere, there were framed photographs of classic rock bands in concert. He wondered if she had taken them herself. Her desk was still neat, case files and huge volumes of lore replaced the girly magazines and nail polish. The angel statuettes were still there. Instead of being strewn all over her room, they found their home on a little shelf next to the window seat.

Christine knew Dean was watching her. She could feel his eyes following her around the room as she nervously tidied her already neat freak clean room. She settled down on the edge of the bed, downing the rest of her glass in one gulp. She turned towards Dean.

Dean scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, downing the contents of his glass in one fell swoop. Christine took the glass from his hand, setting it down on the nightstand with her own. The warmth of the alcohol had her head buzzing, and her mind relaxed. She could tell Dean felt a little tipsy himself as he sauntered over to her desk.

They were too close. Dean kept telling himself that Christine wasn't someone to get too close too. He was a man of one night stands, no commitment, no strings attached. Yet here he was, in her bedroom just like old times, getting too close. He tried to focus on something other than the urge to throw her down on the bed and acquaint himself with her curves. He stood up and walked over to her desk, picking up the picture frame next to her laptop. "When was this?" He asked, turning back to find she had took his place on the bed. She had changed from the jeans and t shirt she had worn at the hospital to a tank top and cropped yoga pants. Her hair fell into her eyes, and he had to stop himself from moving so he could brush it out her face himself.

Christine let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. She thought for sure that he was leaving when he stood up from the bed. She had tried to seem interested in more than just talking. She glanced down at what she was wearing with a frown. Her tank top showed off her chest and the cropped yoga pants showed off her toned calves and red painted toes. He asked her a question. She didn't hear a word he said.

"Chris?" He asked softly. Suddenly he was very close to her. Dean had seen the frown form on her lips just before her hair fell in front of her face. Obviously she was preoccupied with her own thoughts to hear a word he said. He took the picture frame with him, sitting back down on the edge of the bed again. Instead of moving any closer, he simply held the wooden frame out to her.

Christine looked up at the sound of her name. She met his green eyes with her own, finding concern and sadness looking back at her. There was something else too. She had only one man ever look at her that way before. Dean held the picture frame from her desk out to her. She took it, and smiled down at it. "August, 2002. I met Def Leppard on their X tour. They had just released their new album, and Bobby got me VIP backstage tickets for my birthday that year. I hung out mostly with Joe. He was so sweet. We even had a mini jam session in the Sparkle Lounge." She laughed softly at the memory.

"Sparkle Lounge?" Dean asked bewildered.

"Their backstage recording studio." She explained, leaning to the right, settling the frame on display, next to the bottle of whiskey. She sat back, and scooted over to make room on the wall for him to sit too. "The band members all take turns recording riffs, lyrics, and melodies that come to them while they're on the road. They found that they were the most inspired while performing so it made sense to have a place to take advantage of that." Half way through her explanation, She found Dean had moved even closer to her. "We were just talking, and they asked why I loved music so much. I said it was because of my Uncle Bobby, he bought me a piano when I was sixteen. That's when they insisted we jam. Joe just sat and listened while i played keyboard, Phil played acoustic and Sav grabbed a box drum." Christine's voice had faded to a whisper, her breath coming quicker than normal. Dean shifted slightly, turning his chest towards her. His back had come away from the wall, and his leg had found its way under hers. He gave into his previous urge, and brushed her hair out of her eyes, letting his fingers linger in her curls. She turned her face and kissed his open palm.

Dean was dumbfounded. Here he thought he was forcing his feelings and desire on Christine, and this whole time she was matching him step for step. She hadn't heard him because she thought he was leaving. He did almost leave. He should leave. Seeing the picture on her desk gave him a moment to test the waters, and see if he was really reading her signals right. He was definitely reading them right.

Christine couldn't believe herself. Dean's eyes widened when she had kissed his palm.

"What song did you sing?" He asked, trying to give her time to get used to being so close. He could feel the magnetic pull of desire begin to wrap its fiery hands around his soul. Christine looked away, towards the stereo.

"Move With Me Slowly." Christine whispered, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. Dean cocked an eyebrow, that title packed a little heat given their current predicament. He pulled away a little and reached for the stereo on the bookcase behind him. He placed his finger on the search button. Christine's face broke into an impossible grin. "Track 4," She murmured against her knuckles. She had this adorable habit of pressing her fist against her mouth when she was embarrassed. Dean pressed the search button until track 4 was cued up. Christine had retreated a bit, sitting up against the pillows piled up at the corner of her headboard and the wall.

_I'm lost in imagination_

_Still contemplate animation_

_I just groove on your breathing_

_I do it all for you_

Dean crawled on all fours across the bed while the first lyrics washed over them. She sure knew how to pick 'em, perfect mood music. She had broke into a fit of giggles watching him come toward her like that. He reached Christine, and swiveled to a sitting position on the wall beside her, pulling her into his lap and back into the pillowed corner. She let out a little surprised squeak, her hands gripping the front of his plaid shirt.

_You got a problem with your boyfriend_

_He don't squeeze you right_

_He got you face down and waiting baby_

_Keep you waiting all night, so do me a favor_

_Won't you move with me slowly_

_Get too close to me_

_Move with me slowly_

_Just like we're meant to be_

_Just like we're meant to be_

Dean was enjoying watching her squirm. She kept biting her lip, making him want to do it for her. He leaned closer to her, pulling her forward so their noses brushed and he could feel her warm breath fanning his lips. "Dean," She whispered, biting her lip again, "I- uh."

He pulled back just enough so their noses weren't touching anymore. "Spit it out sweetheart, I won't bite," Dean said softly, pressing a kiss just below her ear lobe, "hard." He whispered in her ear.

She smiled a little at that, "Well," she swallowed, "I don't know how, um. I've never, well-"

Dean's eyes widened in shock. She'd never been kissed. Never been- "What?" Dean said before he could stop himself. Christine tried to wiggled out of his arms. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He chided, gripping her upper arms gently but firmly. He could tell she thought he was disappointed. So she did know about his reputation. "I'm just surprised is all." He explained, "I'm not upset, just surprised."

Christine froze, he wasn't upset. "I'm sorry." She said as a reflex, more than an actual apology.

He smiled, "I'm not." He answered, just like when she apologized for making the mix tape. Christine relaxed back into Dean's arms. He let her settle a minute, then pulled her closer, closer until their noses were brushing.

Christine could feel the electricity crackling between them. She felt hyper aware of Dean's elevated heartbeat. She couldn't believe this was actually happening.

Dean cradled the back of her head in his palm, his other hand settling at her hip to hold her firmly against him. "Relax," He whispered. The hum of the music only served as a tangible reminder of the hum of attraction he could feel between them. "Do you feel it?" He asked, brushing his lips against her cheek.

She nodded, inching her mouth closer to his. Unable to help herself, she came closer still, tentatively touching her lips to his.

Dean didn't move at first. He didn't want to spook her. Then she touched her lips to his, and all thought fled. He could feel the hunger rising up inside his chest, the desire to consume her rearing its head. He applied slightly more pressure, tilting his head slightly to get better access to her mouth. As he deepened the kiss, Christine gave a small innocent whimper.

Christine heard a soft whimper, and realized it was herself. She pulled away, breaking contact with his lips. Her eyes had gone wide, and she was eating her knuckles again. She didn't know what came over her. She had actually kissed him, instead of the other way around. Thankfully he had responded, or she wouldn't died from embarrassment.

Dean would have usually lost patience by now. He usually went for women with at least a little experience. Christine was different. For starters, they had history. Years of her growing up under Bobby's roof and his sad dropping him and Sammy off for days at a time. They were always together, scheming, tinkering on cars, getting into loads of trouble. He was finding it to be a huge turn on that he was the only person to be with her this way. He had introduced her to the world of hunting, and now he was with her again on the road of discovery and adventure. "C'mere Chris," He spoke into the near darkness, arms spread wide, only her white Christmas lights strung over the single large window remained.

Christine settled herself against Dean's chest again. There was something endearing about the way he said her name. He wasn't running away screaming like she thought he would. He wasn't even cracking jokes, the reality of what was happening between them was extremely sobering. He smoothed her hair away from her face, and pulled her closer, turning them a little so he could lay her back against the pillows. Dean stared down at the woman in his arms. He felt the weight of the moment crash down on his shoulders. No other man had kissed her, let alone had the privilege of laying her out on her bed. He didn't want to disappoint her fantasies.

Christine decided to just go with her instincts. She reached up, and pulled his head so his ear came down to her mouth, "Show me," Christine whispered, her nails teasing the back of his neck and hairline.

Dean was being consumed by the delicious way her body arched to meet his. She shattered all his preconceived notions about innocence. Her eyes flashed with a hunger that equally matched his own. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers once again. The world seemed to fade around them, the crickets softly serenading the night, the chiming of the cuckoo clock downstairs, all of it ceased. All that existed were her sweet, soft lips. He let a hand wander, coming up from her hip to run his fingers along her collarbone. Christine let out a little gasp at the new contact, and Dean took advantage of it, sliding his tongue gently between her parted lips. She didn't pull away this time, instead after a little coaxing, she began to move her tongue to dance with his own. Dean couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. Her response left him breathless. It had been a long time that a woman had felt this good. He didn't know kissing could be quite like that. He rolled off her, giving his arms a rest and pulled her flush against his body so they were lying side by side, legs intertwined.

Christine was losing herself in the way Dean had wrapped her up, holding her possessively against him and plundered her mouth with his tongue. The man knew how to kiss. She had watched plenty of chick flicks at sleepovers to understand that kissing was an art. Dean was a master.

They both pulled back a little for a few deep breaths. Christine rested her head in the crook of Dean's neck, breathing in the scent of his skin. "Wow," She whispered with a giggle. She felt Dean nod his head. She rose so she straddled his hips, and put her hands on his chest.

"You like it up there?" He asked, watching her eyes close in pleasure. She nodded, and arched her back, pushing her chest out. Suddenly he sat up, so she was sitting atop his crossed folded thighs, her legs curing around his back. Christine buried her fingers in Dean's short hair, drawing his mouth back to her own. She didn't know kissing could be this fun. Deans arms held her firmly to his chest, enjoying the feel of her pressed against his body.

Christine broke the kiss only for the sake of air. She was having a hard time remembering to breathe while losing herself in Dean's warm embrace. She rested her forehead against his and panted, "You are incredible."

Dean smiled, easing her back down onto the bed, he knew if they didn't quit now, they weren't going to quit at all. There was something about the newness of their relationship that didn't warrant sex. Usually he'd have no problem going there. The way Christine looked at him told him she wouldn't mind the invasion, but he hesitated to rush. He wanted to enjoy the innocence for once. There was something peaceful in the way she responded to him, held on to him. No expectations formed by other lovers driving her response. Selfless, that was the word he was looking for. Of course they were both needy, but there was a give and take he hadn't experienced before. He wanted to relish the novelty for once, so sue him. "You are beautiful." He murmured, as she untangled herself from his arms, standing up.

She grabbed his hands and helped him to his feet. She pushed his green and brown plaid over shirt off his shoulders, folding it over her desk chair. Then before she could lose her nerve, she went for his belt buckle.

Dean could tell she was nervous. He gladly let her strip him of his shirt, but stilled her hands at his belt buckle with his own. "Whoa there tiger." He whispered huskily, "I'll take care of that." He was still showing evidence of their little romp. Didn't want to scare the poor girl just yet.

"I'm not stupid Dean," She protested, feeling like she was doing something wrong.

"Chris," Dean pulled her hands up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, "You aren't doing anything wrong. I'm trying to be good to you. It's not fair for me to waltz in here and steal your first kiss and your virtue all in one night."

"You're not stealing it, I want to be with you." Christine whispered, pressing her knuckles to her lips, her gaze at her feet.

"Son of a bitch," He swore. "I want to be with you too." He sighed, "With my Dad," He swallowed hard, "passing and all, I'm just not sure, uh. Well, I guess I just need-" His voice broke. His eyes glistened in the dark.

Christine's eyes began to fill with tears when his voice broke. "some time," She finished for him, "Honestly Dean, I need time too." She let go of his shirt and stepped from his arms. She pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. "Will you stay?" She asked in a tiny whisper. If he hadn't been looking at her, he would have missed it.

Dean found himself undoing his belt buckle. His arousal had thankfully subsided for the moment and he stepped out of his jeans, hanging them on the chair with his shirt. Christine slid under the covers and made room for him in the bed. He knelt down and unplugged the light string before joining her on the bed. She was still sitting up, so he took the opportunity to pull her to him and kiss her thoroughly. He wanted to reassure her that she was desired, and wanted. "Always," He answered her earlier question. "Thank you." He said, laying down and pulling the covers up over them.

She had never felt so loved in all her life. "I think I should be thanking you, Dean." She giggled, "You're one hell of a kisser." Christine settled down with her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his. Dean's chest rumbled with a deep chuckle in response to her complement. Her fingers splayed along his jaw, playfully scratching at his five o'clock shadow. He grunted in pleasure and closed his eyes. Just like that fateful night he left, sleep came for him swiftly.

* * *

><p><em>from the author<em>_'__s desk__…_

_Move With Me Slowly - Def Leppard - I love Def Leppard, its painfully obvious by now isn__'__t it! This is a B-Side to the single, __"__All I Want Is Everything__" __from DL__'__s album, Slang. Not very popular among Leppard junkies like myself, but I appreciate their ability to stay away from the __"__grunge__" __that held 90__'__s music down from reaching its potential. It__'__s a fun track that I think is great for this scene. _

_*Whew* I am so glad that chapter is out of the way! I have spent so much time trying to keep Dean in character, while letting my OFC influence him in ways that would change his usual MO that I__'__m a little afraid I failed. _

_Well, onward we go. Time to rebuild the Impala me thinks! _

_xoxo_

_Lumora The White_


	7. Traveling Riverside Blues

**Long, Long Way From Home **

_Previously…_

"_Son of a bitch,__"_ _He swore. "__I want to be with you too.__"_ _He sighed, __"__With my Dad,__"_ _He swallowed hard, __"__passing and all, I__'__m just not sure, uh. Well, I guess I just need-__"_ _His voice broke. His eyes glistened in the dark. _

_Christine__'__s eyes began to fill with tears when his voice broke. __"__some time,__"_ _She finished for him, __"__Honestly Dean, I need time too.__"_ _She let go of his shirt and stepped from his arms. She pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. __"__Will you stay?__"_ _She asked in a tiny whisper. If he hadn__'__t been looking at her, he would have missed it. _

_Dean found himself undoing his belt buckle. His arousal had thankfully subsided for the moment and he stepped out of his jeans, hanging them on the chair with his shirt. Christine slid under the covers and made room for him in the bed. He knelt down and unplugged the light string before joining her on the bed. She was still sitting up, so he took the opportunity to pull her to him and kiss her thoroughly. He wanted to reassure her that she was desired, and wanted. __"__Always,__"_ _He answered her earlier question. __"__Thank you.__"_ _He said, laying down and pulling the covers up over them._

_She had never felt so loved in all her life. __"__I think I should be thanking you, Dean.__"_ _She giggled, __"__You__'__re one hell of a kisser.__"_ _Christine settled down with her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his. Dean__'__s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle in response to her complement. Her fingers splayed along his jaw, playfully scratching at his five o__'__clock shadow. He grunted in pleasure and closed his eyes. Just like that fateful night he left, sleep came for him swiftly._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven : Traveling Riverside Blues<strong>

Dean woke to a empty bed. He blinked at the empty space beside him, wondering how the hell Christine had managed to wiggle out from between him and the wall and he hadn't felt it. He rose to a sitting position and looked at the clock. 0800. Suddenly the bedroom door flew open and Christine burst into the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" She exclaimed excitedly, "Fantastic!" She was wearing a red tank top, well worn jeans, studded belt and work boots. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a red bandana as a headband, the tied ends sticking up like antennae. Her nose had a grease swipe, just above the silver hoop she wore in her left nostril. A second spot on her forehead sported evidence of her working out in the garage.

"I'm awake alright," Dean mumbled, flopping back down on the bed.

She launched full force into an explanation of what she had been doing that morning, "I've got the Impala on jack stands, wasn't easy since the frame's bent. I have all the doors laid out together, and the seats are all in the garage awaiting evaluation. What's left of the engine's out on the cherry picker. The engine is pretty much destroyed, but I wanted you to take a look at it before we just scrapped it-"

"We?" Dean asked, venom dripping into his voice. He sat up again, this time he threw back the covers and crossed the room to her desk.

The deadliness in Dean's voice stopped her cold in her tracks. Dean stepped into his jeans and boots. Christine held out his plaid shirt, and he jerked it from her grasp. His eyes bore into hers for a split second, blown wide with anger. He disappeared into her bathroom, the door slamming shut, shaking a few pictures on the adjacent wall. Christine collapsed, sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling her head in her hands, nose to her knees. What was she going to say to make it better.

Dean stared hard at his reflection in the mirror. He had made quick work of emptying his bladder, and cleansing his hands. He splashed cold water on his face, letting it run down his cheeks back into the sink. He knew Chris was only trying to help. Losing his father, and losing the Impala too was almost like dying. That car was more than just a car, he named it for crying out loud. That car always made sense to him. When the rest of the world couldn't be explained, everything had order and a solution when it came to that machine. That car meant they weren't completely alone without Dad. It was family. It was home. He pushed off the counter and yanked open the door.

Christine tried really hard to not cry. A few tears escaped her eyes, and her shoulders shook a little from the effort of not relenting into total meltdown.

Dean emerged from the bathroom, his chest heaving. "We?" He asked again, this time, the coldness had been replaced with piping hot rage.

Christine took a deep breath and peered up at Dean through her fingers. She sniffled and stood up, wiping her nose on her knuckles, crossing her arms.

"Sounds like to me that you have been quite busy this morning. Doesn't sound like there's a 'we' to me." Dean spat, staring at her for a moment, almost as if he wanted her to start speaking so he could just cut her off. Christine took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

"Of course there is!" She shouted, crossing the room to stand in front of him. "All I'm doing is laying things out so you can-"

"So I can tell you how good of a job you've done?" Dean mocked, "That car means the world to me Christine! How could you just assume-"

It was his turn to be cut off, "Of course I know what that car means to you Dean!" She shouted, "You practically make love to the thing!" Dean scoffed, shaking his head, turning to go, this was going nowhere. She stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving. Her voice dropped down to a husky tone, breaking a little from the previous effort of shouting, "Seriously Dean," He turned toward her, resting his shoulder against the door frame, recrossing his arms. He raised his eyebrows at her, begging her to continue. She took a sharp breath and paced the floor in front of him, talking with her hands, "I know she's more than just the means to criss cross this country year after year. She's part of you." She stole a glance his way, his eyes glittered in the morning sun back at her. Before she lost her nerve she continued, "Baby is special. She's home. She's a piece of your father you can hold on to forever. Well, assuming we manage to fix her."

Dean watched her pace back and forth, his anger continuing to boil. She really did know him. It was still terrifying. Ten years had passed and yet, here they were thick as thieves all over again. His anger began to subside, instead he found himself amused by her antics. Her hair bounced at an alarmingly attractive rate, and her hips swaying as she paced drove him crazy. Forget the fight they were having, he was now fighting everything within himself not just to devour the sexy creature before him.

Christine clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized she had said "we," again.

Dean clicked his tongue in disapproval, "There's that 'we' again." He came toward Christine, slowly backing her up against her desk. His hands rested on the smooth wood surface, pinning her between his body and the piece of furniture. "I think _we__'__re _going to have to come up with some punishment." His eyes bore into hers, this time they were blown wide with excitement instead of anger.

"Punishment?" Christine squeaked. Dean's eyes had taken on the light she had seen last night, just before he had kissed her the second time.

Dean nodded, "Mmm hmm." He practically growled at her, gathering her up in his arms before she could protest, depositing on her the desk top, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Her desk sat unusually high, and he took full advantage of it. Bobby found it at an estate sale for her when she moved in ten years earlier. The 'desk' was a workbench that someone had brilliantly added a hutch to, giving the instinctively cool bar height surface functionality.

Christine gripped the front of Dean's t-shirt for support, her mouth fell open in a gasp at the feel of him pressing against her, her eyes locking with his. Dean's hands left her shoulders, cradling her head, positioning her just the right way so he could kiss her thoroughly.

Dean wanted to make Christine feel as crazy as he felt. It wasn't fair how innocently she turned him on. The smallest thing made would make his blood run hot, and his jeans tighten just so. Here he was grieving his father, trying to honor him by rebuilding the Impala, and all he wanted to do was to feel Christine against his body, her mouth opened for him, her body his for the taking.

Christine was sure that she was on fire. She felt as if the fire that had started burning in her belly when she first hugged Dean in the library, had spread to every part of her body. She let out a whimper as Dean bit down on her lower lip, it felt as if his hands were everywhere at once. As suddenly as he had assaulted her, not that she minded, he pulled away. Christine kept her eyes closed, her fingers coming up to feel her swollen lips, reveling in the feeling of being thoroughly kissed by Dean Winchester. "Dean," She whispered with a giggle, reaching out in front of her. No response. No Dean. Her eyes flew open as the sound of boots thudding down the stairs reached her ears. She took a deep breath and raced to the stairs. "Dean Winchester!" She shouted, "You get back here and finish what you started! " She reached the landing and caught up with him in the kitchen, spearing him the chest with her forefinger, "You can't just kiss me like that and-" Bobby cleared his throat cutting her off. Obviously she thought he was still out in the garage.

Bobby had greeted Dean warmly when had entered the kitchen. He was no fool. He knew the boy had spent the night in Christine's bed. Despite his wariness of the two kids exploring a romantic relationship, he knew Dean needed support. Maybe Christine could give him that.

Christine whirled around, and came face to face with Bobby. "Hi," She squeaked while flushing a deep red from hairline to throat. "I thought you were o-out i-in the-"

"Garage?" Bobby finished for her, his face splitting into an amused grin. "Guess I'm not." He said reminiscent of her infamous retort the night she discovered the world of the supernatural. She also used it a few times during her semi rebellious phase in high school. He winked at her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he moved past her out of the kitchen.

Christine turned back to Dean to find him leaning against the counter and sipping a steaming mug of coffee. He handed her a steaming mug of her own, and a plate of scrambled eggs. Christine cocked an eyebrow, "Bobby?" She asked, grabbing a seat at the eat in kitchen table. Bobby must have stayed in the kitchen instead of heading out to the garage like he said he was going to do when she came back to the house a short while ago.

Dean sat across from her, "Bobby," He confirmed, forcing himself not to smile at the enthusiastic way she dug into her plate. He did appreciate a woman with an appetite.

The pair ate in companionable silence. Christine found herself scarfing down breakfast, not caring that the man in front of her could possibly be turned off by her wolfish behavior. It was like old times, except now Dean knew the helplessness of losing a parent. Dean finished first and left his plate in the sink. He flashed her a small smile before heading out the house. Christine huffed out a short breath and sat back in her chair. She just hoped after seeing Baby he would speak to her again.

Finished with her plate, Christine rinsed it in sink, setting it and her empty mug in the dishwasher she insisted Bobby install a few years back. She chanced a glance out the window to the salvage yard. Dean had found a pair of work gloves and was inspecting the engine. Before she could lose her courage, Christine headed out to the yard.

Dean felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. Baby was destroyed. The frame was bent just behind the driver's door, and the engine, well it looked like a complete rebuild was in order. Christine had done an amazing job of laying everything out and getting it ready to be evaluated. Sam was going to be no help under the car, so he knew Christine or Bobby were his best bet for getting Baby running again. He heard footsteps approaching and turned to find Christine carrying a pair of creepers from the garage. He met her a few steps from the workbench she had wheeled out from the garage. He silently took the equipment from her, and set them both on the ground.

"Dean," She spoke after watching him return to inspecting the ruined engine. "I need to show you something." She said quietly, not wanting a reprise of this morning's outburst.

He took a breath and studied her for a moment. "You're right. The engine's ruined. The frame's bent, the suspensions all twisted to hell." He kicked the passenger door, "Son of a bitch!" He swore, "What could you possible show me that could make this better, huh?"

It was her turn to stare at him for a moment. She was debating on whether to show him the treasure trove Bobby had found yesterday morning, or let him flounder a bit more. She chose the former. "We've got a '67 Impala that's been exposed to the elements, but at least the sheet metal is straight and the frame isn't bent. The interior is crap, but the suspension is solid and I can order the other parts you need in town." Christine started to walk away, leading Dean towards the other car she had Bobby tow to where Baby was. She pulled off the tarp she had thrown over it yesterday, revealing a solid car that looked like it needed a little TLC and a good coat of paint.

Dean didn't show the relief he felt on his face. "Sure," He shrugged, "only what she needs." Christine nodded in agreement. He turned away from Christine to get to work on Baby. He grabbed a few wrenches, and settled himself on one of the creepers, and slid under the car. Who was he kidding? He stared up at the mangled undercarriage of the Impala with a heavy heart. Baby needed a complete rebuild, and this little diamond in the rough was their saving grace.

Christine let him be, she'd wait for him to ask for her help. She didn't want to intrude on his way of moving on and honoring his father. Instead of going back to the house, she headed to the garage where the interior had been stashed. Both bench seats miraculously didn't have any tears in the leather. The hardest part was removing the blood stains. The front seat didn't have many stains, the passenger side was the worst from the bullet John took in his right leg. She made short work of the front seat, letting it dry in the morning sun streaming through the main garage door. The back seat proved to be more of a hassle. Dean lost a lot of blood during the crash. It was one of the reasons he had slipped into a coma so quickly.

A couple of hours of cleaning and Christine had both seats gleaming. Cleaning Dean's blood off the seat proved to be more emotionally taxing that she had originally anticipated. Instead of trying to figure out what the doors needed, she headed back up to the house. The clock in the garage read 12:25 PM. Considering how long she had been up, she was long over due for a pit stop. She emerged from the garage into the blinding sunshine, catching sight of her prized Roxy. The car didn't gleam like it should under the cloudless sky. Dust and mud from the journey to St. Cloud and back caked the under belly and quarter panels. She passed the car, giving it a loving caress along the trunk lid, blowing a kiss of promise to give her a bath this afternoon.

Dean had made significant progress on Baby. All the suspension had been stripped as well as the sheet metal. The skeleton didn't look that bad once it had been cleared of the carnage. He discovered the frame wasn't bent like they originally thought. The chassis was somehow still straight, just the door frame was crumpled from the impact. The truck must have sat just a few inches too high for the impact to bend the foundation. He glanced at his watch, polishing off the last water bottle he snagged from the fridge. 12:26 PM. He turned towards the sound of footsteps coming from the garage. Christine emerged from the doorway, stopping in front of her prized Challenger. He watched curiously as she walked along the rear of the car, following the edge of the trunk lid with her palm, almost like a lover's caress. His lips twisted into a wry smile as she blew the car a kiss, and sauntered on her way, hips swaying softly to some song she hummed under her breath. Christine shared his insanity alright. "Time for a break already?" He teased, falling into step beside her as they approached the back porch.

"I feel like I could eat a horse!" She laughed, climbing up the steps and yanking open the screen door. Dean held it open for her, and followed her inside. She stopped just inside the door, bent over and unlaced her work boots. Dean choked on the groan that escaped his throat at the sight of her bent over like that. This woman was going to be the death of him. He followed suit, stripping off his boots and joined her at the sink in the kitchen. He glanced sideways at her, discovering red blooming across her cheek. He quickly grabbed her shoulders to look at her full on.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, his still soapy fingers skimming over the red marks on her cheek. To his surprise the color melted at his touch.

"No, Dean!" Christine exclaimed covering his fingers with her own, "I've been cleaning the seats. I must have splashed some of the water on my face." Understanding flickered across his face. Those seats were probably full of blood. He was been told that he almost bled out at the scene. It was practically a miracle he survived the trip to the hospital. He took up the wash cloth and gently cleaned the red stain from her skin. Christine released her grip on his shirt to reach up fluff his hair a bit, since it had wilted from being under the car. Dean returned the wash cloth to the sink and dried his hands. He turned to find Christine bent over again, this time she was fishing out ingredients for sandwiches from the fridge.

"Turkey sandwiches sound good?" She asked, placing a loaf of bread on the counter and diving back into the fridge for the meat and cheese. She set the rest of the ingredients on the counter and grabbed Dean a beer from the bottom shelf, closing the door with her hip.

Dean cleared his throat. "Sure," He choked out, sitting down at the table, cracking open the beer she handed him.

Christine moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. She made quick work of the sandwiches, forming a little assembly line. She made two extra, she knew Bobby would be hungry, and Sam would be too, even if he didn't feel much like eating at the moment. After slicing some apples she placed a sandwich in front of Dean, and one at the place opposite him at the table, a plate of apple slices between them. "I'll be right back," She said, balancing two plates that held the sandwiches and apple slices in one hand and grabbed two beers and two waters with the other. She disappeared up the stairs first. Sam had holed up his room with some books.

Dean took a bite of an apple slice as he heard his brother thank her, and a few moments later, she descended the stairs and opened the basement door with her hip. She gave him a saucy wink just before she disappeared down the steps. He didn't have to wait long to hear Bobby exclaim his thanks. Suddenly he was back to eating peanut butter banana sandwiches and apple slices on Bobby's back porch while the sunset. Christine's golden hair was plaited neatly into two braids that barely brushed her shoulders. Her pretty mouth was open mid laugh and he was grinning from ear to ear. He was telling her about the first time his Dad had taken him shooting. Even his twelve year old self knew there was something special about her. He remembered how much he wanted to be near Christine and share in her world. He loved her smile and her laugh. He would do almost anything to get her to giggle and grin just because of him. Dusk crept up on the house, lightning bugs appearing at the edge of the woods along the house.

"Dean," Christine whispered, sliding into her chair across from him. She could tell Dean had lost himself in a memory.

Dean blinked a few times, realizing that Christine had returned. "Sorry," He sniffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He forced a smile and sighed. If she only knew how much he thought about her.

"Don't be," Christine said softly, covering his hand that rested on the table top with her own. Staring into his eyes for a moment, she saw the familiar look of helplessness that comes from losing a parent. Granted, her mother was still alive, but she knew the feeling. Dean at least had the chance to avenge his father. She let go, picked up a few apple slices and deposited them on her plate.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Dean's thoughts were a jumble of what Baby needed and how he was going to ask the woman across from him for help without actually asking for help. He sighed, as he swallowed his last bite of sandwich. Christine looked up from the newspaper she was skimming her brow lifted in question. He cleared his throat, "Chris, uh," he swallowed again, "could you, um maybe, well-"

"Take a look at the rest of the interior?" She offered, trying to help him out while trying to play it safe. He seemed to be trying really hard to ask for her help without it seeming like he was actually asking for help.

"Yeah," Dean sighed with relief, that was remarkably easier than he had imagined. He had finished his food, and took the plate to the sink. "I remember what Cherry Pie looked like before you fixed her up." Bobby had acquired the two toned 1972 Dodge Challenger the fall before his falling out with John. Christine had decided then that she wanted to restore the car, she had proudly showed it to Dean. He called it, 'Cherry Pie'. She naively went along with it. Now that she was older, she took severe offense to that reference. Her pride and joy wasn't _only_ sex on wheels. Roxy definitely had sex appeal, but she was also her best friend.

Dean turned around to face her, polishing off the beer in his hand, leaning against the counter.

"Still calling her that, huh?" Christine played it cool, not wanting a repeat of this morning's fight.

"What?" Dean asked aloof, "I love pie." He said placing the beer bottle in the recycling bin.

"Uh, huh." Christine answered, rinsing her plate and placing them both in the dishwasher. "Speaking of 'Cherry Pie', I'm going to give her a bath before my gig tonight." She was bent over again in the fridge, this time Dean was unable to help himself. He let out a grunt of approval. Christine straightened, handing him a bottle, "Did you just-"

"Check out your ass?" Dean finished for her, backing her up against the now closed refrigerator door. "You have been bending over like that all damn day." He growled. Dean released her for just a second to shift his hands from her shoulders to what she presumed to be her waist and she took the window. She ducked grabbed his right arm and slammed him against the fridge, pinning his arm behind his back. "Son of a bitch!" He yelped in protest.

"Tell you what, I won't tell Bobby you've been checking out my ass if," She thought for a moment, "If you come to my gig tonight." She knew going out to a bar was the last thing Dean wanted to do right now. He wanted to bury himself in Baby until she was one solid piece again. Dean barked a laugh that quickly turned into a wince of pain as Christine tweaked his arm a bit. "I'm serious." She purred into his ear.

Dean nodded and Christine released him. He rubbed his arm while Christine disappeared through the kitchen door and out of the house. How could he have underestimated her so much? He knew from talking with other hunters that Christine Elliott was one of the best damn hunters around. Most people that worked with her trusted her, but they all agreed she was one hell of a force to be reckoned with. He picked up the bottle of water Christine handed him from the floor where it had landed during their little scuffle. Regardless of how he felt about going out at the moment, he did want to see Christine play. He wondered if she had a band or flew solo. The clock in the hallway struck 2:00PM. Only a few hours left until he would have to shower and head out. He took a deep breath and sighed. He had work to do.

* * *

><p><em>from the author<em>_'__s desk__…_

_Traveling Riverside Blues - Led Zeppelin - Most of you know this to be Dean__'__s favorite song, rather its in a tie with another LZ master piece, Ramble On. I personally favor this song for Dean and Christine. It just suits them better than the latter._

_Cherry Pie - Warrant - This song is not what Christine wants her car's anthem to be. Dean's only teasing of course, but we may see him use this to rile her up in the future..._

_The next chapter will give you a peak into the Christine's world. It's a little detour, but we'll get back on track and head out to the Roadhouse and meet Ellen and Jo. Up next is, Small Town. _

_xoxo_

_Lumora The White_


	8. Small Town

**Long, Long Way From Home**

_Previously__…_

"_Uh, huh.__" __Christine answered, rinsing her plate and placing them both in the dishwasher. __"__Speaking of __'__Cherry Pie__'__, I__'__m going to give her a bath before my gig tonight.__" __She was bent over again in the fridge, this time Dean was unable to help himself. He let out a grunt of approval. Christine straightened, handing him a bottle, __"__Did you just-__"_

"_Check out your ass?__" __Dean finished for her, backing her up against the now closed refrigerator door. __"__You have been bending over like that all damn day.__" __He growled. Dean released her for just a second to shift his hands from her shoulders to what she presumed to be her waist and she took the window. She ducked and grabbed his right arm and slammed him against the fridge, pinning his arm behind his back. __"__Son of a bitch!__" __He yelped in protest._

"_Tell you what, I won__'__t tell Bobby you__'__ve been checking out my ass if,__" __She thought for a moment, __"__If you come to my gig tonight.__" __She knew going out to a bar was the last thing Dean wanted to do right now. He wanted to bury himself in Baby until she was one solid piece again. Dean barked a laugh that quickly turned into a wince of pain as Christine tweaked his arm a bit. __"__I__'__m serious.__" __She purred into his ear. _

_Dean nodded and Christine released him. He rubbed his arm while Christine disappeared through the kitchen door and out of the house. How could he have underestimated her so much? He knew from talking with other hunters that Christine Elliott was one of the best damn hunters around. Most people that worked with her trusted her, but they all agreed she was one hell of a force to be reckoned with. He picked up the bottle of water Christine handed him from the floor where it had landed during their little scuffle. Regardless of how he felt about going out at the moment, he did want to see Christine play. He wondered if she had a band or flew solo. The clock in the hallway struck 2:00PM. Only a few hours left until he would have to shower and head out. He took a deep breath and sighed. He had work to do._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 : Small Town<strong>

Saying the bar was crowed was understatement of the year. He'd never seen the place so full. They had plenty of meals here with Bobby when Dad was away. A few of the men at the bar had their girls sit on their laps so they all had a place to sit between sets. He was trying to politely shrug off the attention of two fairly attractive blonde women who had cuddled up to him at the bar. He turned away from them towards the restrooms only to have the breath knocked from his lungs. Christine emerged from the back room, a single piece of paper in her hand. Her black sleeveless top and jeans hugged her in all the right places, but covered most of her skin, adding allure and mystery to her overall look. He could see shiny silver buckles on her black boots poking out from under the bottom of her jeans, they matched the belt she wore at her waist. Her golden hair fell free almost to her waist, some baby curls clinging to her temples from the heat of the room. Her eye make up was darker than he had ever seen it, and she wore classic red lipstick to match her painted nails. He felt the heated gaze of most the men around him as she snaked her way through the crowd to him at the bar.

Christine almost lost her nerve when she spotted Dean at the bar. Two busty blondes surrounded him, thankfully he had not turned to face them. Instead he swiveled around to her direction when someone let loose a whistle of approval. She didn't think he would actually come. Another glance around and she found Sam and Bobby at a table near the stage. They both raised their beers to her and continued with their conversation. Dean's eyes never left her as she snaked her way to the bar. She slid in sideways to face him, resting her right elbow on the bar, slapping the piece of paper on the surface. She leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "Sorry about pinning you against the fridge earlier, I think I just reacted on pure instinct." She pulled back and slammed the shot of tequila the bartender set before her.

Dean caught sight of Sam and Bobby at the table near the stage over Christine's head. Thankfully the two blonde bimbos had removed themselves from his company. Christine took their place, and whispered in his ear. He knew she had merely reacted to the palpable tension between them. If she really wanted to hurt him, she was more than capable. Plus, it was mildly fun to see her use the training he started with her all those years ago. "Nothing to worry about sweetheart," He drawled, knocking back the rest of the whiskey in his glass.

"Swayze!" Christine flagged down the bartender, and turned back to Dean.

"Swayze?" He asked, curious as to the guy's name.

"Just a nickname." Christine explained, flashing a bright smile at the bartender, "Tony's a former ballroom dancing champion. He even teaches dancing to the old ladies at the Y." She waggled her eyebrows and giggled.

Tony, aka 'Swayze' arrived with two glasses of whiskey. Dean nodded his thanks and wrapped his fingers around the cut glass tumbler, watching the bubbles rise to the top. He turned his attention to the piece of paper Christine placed on the bar. He read:

**Elliott and The Breakaway Creation**

**Set List - 8pm**

_Dirty Laundry - Chris_

_The Heat Is On - (Richie on Sax) - Joel_

_Born To Run (DannySUBWendy) - Chris_

_Long, Long Way From Home - Chris_

_Man In The Wilderness - Chris_

_Bad Company - Joel/Chris_

_Dancing In The Dark (Electric) - Chris_

_**15 MIN BREAK **_

_Turn The Page (Richie on Sax) - Chris_

_Simple Man - (Bad Company NOT Skynyrd) - Joel/Chris_

_Pour Some Sugar On Me (Electric) - Chris_

_Desperado (Acoustic) - Chris_

_Move With Me Slowly - Chris_

_Pink Houses - Chris_

_Night Moves - Joel_

_**ENCORE **_

_Crumblin__' __Down (Electric) - Chris _

He looked up from the piece of paper to find Chris even closer to him. "See anything you like?" Christine gazed up at him, bitting her lip.

"Elliott and The Breakaway Creation?" He inquired, taking a sip of whiskey, wondering why he wasn't smearing her lipstick instead.

Christine gave a disappointed sigh, apparently she thought he should be smearing her lipstick too, "Dean!" She exclaimed, play punching him in arm. He was always side stepping her questions like that.

Dean cracked a smile, "The set looks good." He said soberly, trying to encourager her, "I'm looking forward to the second half, you've got it stacked pretty good." He studied her a moment, then put his arm around her and drew her in close so he could whisper in her ear, "I love the outfit,"

"Really?" Christine said hopefully, "Joel told me I looked like a schoolmarm."

Dean chuckled at that. "Schoolmarm? I wouldn't go that far." He told himself later he would show her how sexy she really looked.

Joel Lane, the lead electric guitarist and lead male vocalist for the Elliott and The Breakaway Creation wandered into the main bar room. Fifteen minutes left until their set and he couldn't find Christine anywhere. He didn't believe Christine had people here tonight other than Bobby. She was probably talking to the opening band, she was always making connections to further their career. Instead of a musician she was talking to a patron at the bar. A tall, broad shouldered man had his arm around her. She was clearly enjoying his attention by the pretty blush across her cheeks. Christine was gorgeous, but you really couldn't tell how smoking hot she was with all the covering up she did. He tried to get Christine to show a little more skin on stage, but it didn't seem to matter to her or the fans. Never mind his motives weren't purely professional. They were growing in popularity in the local bar scene and he didn't want to lose her to another band on the circuit. Christine was magic, her ability to cover a song was uncanny. She could stay true to the song's original grit all the while making it her very own. He didn't want to lose that. If he was honest he didn't want to lose her at all.

"Christine?" Joel inquired, stepping up the pair at the bar.

"Joel!" She exclaimed placing a hand on the stranger's shoulder, "This is Dean Winchester." Joel's eyes widened, THE Dean Winchester? He thought this guy was Christine's imaginary friend until a few years ago. Then he finds out from his Dad that the Winchesters are the scariest son of a bitches in the business and Christine grew up having playdates with them!

Dean extended his hand and Joel took it cautiously. "Dean, this is Joel Lane. He's the lead guitarist and lead male vocals for-"

"Elliott and the Breakaway Creation." Dean finished for her, letting go of Joel's hand, his arm remaining around Christine the whole time.

"We really have to go Christine," Joel pushed, possessively grabbing her upper arm. Dean took note of the man's obvious jealously and planned to ask Chris about it later that night. No sense in making things tense right before she went on stage.

Christine shrugged his grip off her arm, "I know, I'll be right there Joel," She turned away from him towards Dean, dismissing him. Joel gave frustrated groan and got right up in Dean's face.

"Watch yourself, Winchester." Joel snarled, then he stomped off towards the stage, pushing people out of his path.

"Geez, what's got his panties in a twist?" Dean laughed it off, taking a sip from his glass. He didn't mind the competition, maybe it would make things a little more interesting around here, if that was possible.

"Dean," Christine sighed, "He's a hunter." Dean choked on his drink, "They all are," She motioned to the band assembling on stage.

"What?" Dean asked dumbfounded.

"You heard me," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist for a moment, "See ya Winchester," She came in close, almost kissed him, then disappeared into the crowd towards the stage. Dean let out a frustrated groan, picking up his drink, following her into the crowd. There was an empty chair next to Sam with a perfect view of the stage.

Christine slipped in her in ear monitors, and pulled out the wireless microphone she stashed in her back pocket. She stopped short of the stage, making a right turn into some tables, grabbing a seat next to Sam, across from Bobby. She said something in Sam's ear and he nodded with a suspiciously goofy grin. The music started, and she didn't move. Everyone seemed to be in place, there was even a keyboard player. The only spot vacant was a microphone stand dead center stage. 'She's just a vocalist' He thought to himself. Boy was he wrong. She wasn't "just" anything. Dean stopped short of the wide expanse of the dance floor and found her staring right at him, curling her forefinger at him in a very sexy, 'come hither' motion.

He took a deep breath and strode across the vacant dance floor towards the stage. When he reached her, she got up and motioned for him to sit down. Suddenly Sam boosted her up on to the small round table top.

"I make my livin' off the evening news," She sang strongly, her hips swaying to the music. "just give me something, something I can use! People love it when you lose, they love dirty laundry." Dean's mouth went dry at the delicious angle he was treated to with her on the table in front of him. She continued to sing, and play to the crowd all around her. He sat back in his chair and marveled at how at home she seemed to be with all those eyes trained on her. "Can we film the operation? Is the head dead yet?" She jumped down from the table, motioning to Sam and Dean, "You know the boys in the newsroom got a running bet." She swung her arm and pointed to the stage, "Get the window on the set! We need dirty laundry!" During the guitar solo she finally made it to the stage, dancing next to Joel. At one point they were back to back and she locked eyes with Dean. He swore she winked at him. She knew seeing her close to Joel like that would make his blood boil. The last verse she left the stage again getting lost in the dance floor that was now standing room only, popping up on the edge of the bar top, holding on the the support beam at the end of the counter. "We can do the Innuendo, we can dance and sing!" She wiped the sweat from her brow, "When its said and done we haven't told you a thing, we all know that crap is king!" The crowd around her cheered at that, "Eat your dirty laundry!" The song transitioned into the last guitar solo and Christine pocketed her microphone and began pouring beer on tap. She downed a glass of water, and left the bar counter with two beers in her hand. These she deposited in front of Sam, "Thanks Sugar," She purred kissing him on the cheek, her eyes glued to Dean's.

"She always do that?" Dean asked into Bobby's ear before the next song started amidst the applause and cat calling.

"Oh yeah," Bobby drawled, " 'bout gave me a heart attack the first time I saw the band play." He laughed.

"She's fearless." Sam commented with a smile.

Dean took a sip of one of the beers she brought to the table, "They all hunters?" He asked suddenly, wanting to test Christine's words from earlier.

Bobby took a swig of beer, "Hell yeah. You got any friends who ain't?"

Dean nodded. It sure made things easier to share the unspoken code of honor of hunters. He didn't trust the way Joel was looking at Christine. The man seemed sweet on her, and Chris was completely oblivious, or really good at ignoring him.

The next song was a mix of rebel yells and saxophone. Joel had a decent voice, and could tear up the electric guitar quite nicely. Christine took a bit of backseat role, doing everything to make Joel shine which made her stand out even more to him. Maybe that was why Joel had his panties in a twist to begin with. Christine blew all of them out of the water with her showmanship and talent.

Christine sang the next song cleverly changing the words:

_Danny let me in I wanna be your friend_

_I want to guard your dreams and visions_

_Let me__ wrap __my legs round those__ velvet rims_

_And strap __my hands across your __engines_

_Together we could break this trap_

_Well run till we drop, baby we__'__ll never go back_

_Will you walk with me out on the wire_

_`cause baby I__'__m just a scared and lonely rider_

_But I gotta __know how it feels_

_I want to know if love is wild, babe, I want to know if love is real_

Bruce Springsteen, also known as 'The Boss', was a great choice for the audience. The song began to wrap up and Christine held out the mic indicating the audience sing for her, "cause tramps like us," Then she put the mic to her mouth, "baby we were born to run!" They all sang together.

The last song before their break started and Dean couldn't help but smile, Dancing in The Dark. He caught her singing this all the time when they were kids, especially the part about the mirror. She must've had a school girl crush on The Boss.

Christine met Dean's eyes across the smoky room, her arm outstretched, "Hey there Baby," She jumped off the stage, "I could use just a little help."

"She's incredible." Sam mused, polishing off the beer she brought, glancing over at Dean. "Hey man, you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean chuckled softly. He must look like one of those slack jawed idiots from a sappy chick flick.

"I've never seen you look like that." Sam said, leaning in to talk to him across the table top.

Dean opened his mouth prepped with a smart reply only to have Bobby cut him off. "Save the chick flick moment you two." Bobby warned, "Here she comes again."

Sure enough, Christine had wandered out into the tables again. "You can't start a fire!" she sang, "You can't start a fire without a spark, this gun's for hire." then she took the mic away from her mouth and pointed it at the audience around her, they sang, "Even if we're just dancing in the dark."

Christine found herself interacting with the crowd more tonight than she had in a while. Maybe it was the extra support she had from Dean and Sam.

_Messages keep getting clearer_

_Radio__'__s on and I__'__m moving round my place_

_I check my look in the mirror_

_I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!_

_Man, I ain__'__t getting nowhere_

_I__'__m just livin__' __in a dump like this_

_There__'__s something happening somewhere_

_Baby, I just know that there is_

Dean felt the impact of the verse as Christine continued to move about the room, exchanging high fives and winks with a few patrons. He could hear the cry for more out of life and the infamous itch for adventure. The song continued and Dean found himself taken back to the back porch again, just like at lunch. This time it was darker, and he held an empty mason jar. Christine inched her way towards a lightning bug that wandered near the porch steps. "Gotcha!" She whispered triumphantly, flashing him a 1000 watt smile. Dean didn't think anything of their role reversal in this moment. It seemed like the right thing to do, hold the jar while she danced about the yard catching the little critters. It wasn't until he did the same thing with another girl years later that he figured out the boy was supposed to catch the bugs, and the girl held the jar.

_Stay on the streets of this town_

_And they__'__ll be carving you up alright_

_They say you gotta stay hungry_

_Hey baby, I__'__m just about starving tonight_

_I__'__m dying for some action_

_I__'__m sick of sitting __'__round here trying to write this book_

_I need a love reaction_

_C__'__mon baby give me just one look_

_You can__'__t start a fire, sitting __'__round crying over a broken heart_

_This gun__'__s for hire, even if we__'__re just dancing in the dark_

_You can__'__t start a fire, worry about your little world falling apart_

_This gun__'__s for hire, even if we__'__re just dancing in the dark_

_Even if we__'__re just dancing in the dark_

_Even if we__'__re just dancing in the dark_

_Even if we__'__re just dancing in the dark_

Richie came forward to take the lead and Christine threw her arm around his neck, "Hey baby!" She sang, dancing with him as he finished the song. She gave a slight bow to the cheering crowd, placing her mic on the stand for the first time that night.

"See ya'll in fifteen minutes." Joel spoke into his microphone amongst the crowd immediately erupted into conversation and the band hung up their instruments for the break. "Christine, I was thinking-" Joel began, turning to where she usually lingered at her mic stand. Instead found the space empty, he swept the room and found her wrapped up the arms of Dean Winchester.

Dean stood up with the patrons around him, clapping and hooping and hollering with the best of them. Chris bounded off the stage and into his waiting arms. He breathed in the heady mixture of sweat and rose scented perfume. He squeezed her tight and whispered in her ear, "proud of you." She pulled away before he could say more, and she looked up at him with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion. Sam put his arm around her, "You are so awesome!" He said loudly to cut through the noise of the crowd.

She leaned into his embrace, "Thanks Sam." She said, then went over to Bobby. The boys exchanged a soulful look as father and daughter embraced. "Love you," Christine whispered into Bobby's ear before she pulled away. Bobby just nodded, making Christine smile even bigger. "I'm gonna hit the head, anybody need a refill?" She picked up the empty beer glasses, waggling her eyebrows.

Dean chuckled, taking the glasses from her, "Sure, I'll go with you." Sam and Bobby sat back down, and the pair worked their way through the crowd to the bar. "Swayze!" Dean called, flashing Christine a smile.

She leaned in to him and kissed his cheek, "I'll be right back." She disappeared into the open doorway marked 'Restrooms.'

Dean turned back to the bar, and Joel appeared next to him. "Be careful Winchester." He muttered darkly, flagging down the bartender.

Dean thought about just ignoring him then his temper got the best of him, "Look man, I don't know what I've done-"

"What you've done?" Joel cut him off, "You blow into town and back into Christine's life. Next week you'll just blow right back out. You leave destruction in your wake where ever you go." He took a swing of beer, "Winchesters." He scoffed.

"Joel!" Christine exclaimed sliding in between the two men, placing her hands on his shoulders giving a firm push. "He was just leaving," She said over her shoulder to Dean, walking Joel backwards into the crowd. When the pair reached the stage she turned to face him full on, "What the hell was that?" She demanded.

Joel barked a laugh, "He's just going to leave you behind like everyone else." He took a breath, "C'mon Christine, you think you're any different than his other one night stands and weekend flings?"

Christine couldn't slap him hard or fast enough. "Don't you dare compare me to-" She cut herself off. "You know what? I don't need to justify myself to you Joel. He's more than just a handsome hunter. He's Dean-"

"Winchester." Joel finished for her. "You can't trust them." He motioned to the table where Bobby, Dean and Sam were sitting. Bobby and Sam were laughing, Dean however was staring directly at her. She felt a chill run down her spine. He didn't look very upset that Joel was trying to convince her not to trust him. He looked calm and focused. Dean checked his watch, reminding her that their break was almost over.

"We don't have time for this, Joel." She brushed him off, taking a sip from the water glass on the stool next to her. Settling on the stool in front of her microphone, she signaled to Richie and the rest of the band to kick the first song off. Richie's saxophone broke through the chatter, giving everyone time to find a seat or a place to stand to enjoy the next set.

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath before singing;

_On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha_

_You can listen to the engine moanin' out it's one note song_

_You can think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before_

_But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do_

_When you're riding sixteen hours and there's nothing there to do_

_And you don't feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through_

_Here I am, on the road again_

_There I am, on the stage_

_Here I go, playing star again_

_There I go, turn the page_

The rest of the set went really smoothly. Hits like, Pour Some Sugar On Me and Pink Houses really got the place rocking. Desperado got a different response, Christine dedicated the song before she sang it.

"I'd like to dedicate this one to John Winchester. Farewell to a fiercely loved father and dear friend." She said, then while Keith played the keyboard she sang;

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?_

_You been out ridin' fences for so long now_

_Oh, you're a hard one_

_I know that you got your reasons_

_These things that are pleasin' you_

_Can hurt you somehow_

Dean cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. He caught Sam's eye and to his surprise found them glistening with tears. Bobby shifted a little as well. It seemed Christine had a gift for reaching even the hardest of hearts.

"I remember, I remember…" Christine finished the Bob Seger classic, 'Night Moves, concluding the two hour performance. The crowd erupted in applause as, 'Swayze' jumped up on stage to conclude the live music portion of the night.

"Hey Ya'll! Thanks for being so amazing tonight. You just witnessed the greatness that is Elliott and The Breakaway Creation!" He exclaimed, earning a few hoops and hollers accompanied by more applause. A few people chanted by the bar, "One more song, one more song!" "What's that?" He asked, "One more song? Hell yeah!" He exclaimed, waving the band back on stage. Christine had only stepped off the platform and was embracing a young girl who stood by the stage the whole set.

Joel picked up his electric guitar and with a quick click off from Harry he began the song, Crumblin' Down by John Mellencamp, letting the opening riff hang out by itself for a few bars. Harry dropped in on the drums and Jerry followed on the bass.

Christine danced around the stage, getting up close and personal with Joel despite their little spat before the last set. She put the mic back on its stand and sang into it;

_Some people, ain__'__t no damn good_

_you can trust __'__em, you can__'__t love __'__em_

_no good deed goes unpunished_

_I don__'__t mind, being their whipping boy_

_I__'__ve had that pleasure for years and years_

_No, no I never was sinner, but tell me what else can I do_

_Second best is what you get until you learn to bend the rules_

_Time respects no person, what you lift up must fall_

_They__'__re waiting outside to claim my crumbin__' __walls_

The chorus proved to be just like other's except Christine didn't even sing with the microphone next to her mouth, she held it out for the young girl who had embraced her just moments before. The second verse was another Dean heard frequently growing up with Chris:

_Some people, say I__'__m obnoxious and lazy_

_I__'__m uneducated, my opinion means nothing!_

_But I know, I__'__m a real good dancer_

_Don__'__t need to look over my shoulder to see what I__'__m after_

_Everybody__'__s got their problems, ain__'__t no new news here_

_I__'__m the same old trouble you__'__ve been having for years_

_Don__'__t confuse the problem with the issue boy cause its perfectly clear_

_just a human desire to have you come near_

_want to put my arms around you, feel your breath in my ear_

_you can bend me, you can break me, but you better stand clear!_

_When the walls come tumblin__' __down_

_when the walls come crumblin__'__, crumblin__'_

_when the walls come crumblin__' __tumblin__'_

_down_

The song concluded soon after that, he could sense Christine was losing steam since she had put the mic back on the stand instead holding it in her hand. This time the band left the stage with their instruments. The clock above the bar read 10:20PM. Considering he'd been up since 0800 he was feeling it was time for a little R&R. Maybe he could coax Christine into sitting on the hood of the Impala and gazing at the stars. Oh wait. He kicked himself. How was it that just the thought of spending time with Chris made it seem like everything was right with the world?

"Dean! Sam!" Christine called in their direction, "Come meet the band!"

* * *

><p><em>from the author<em>_'__s desk__…_

_Small Town - John Mellencamp - This song takes me back to riding in my father__'__s truck on the way to the local race track. It embodies exactly the feel of the community Bobby and Christine call home. _

_My muse is enjoying the interaction between Dean and Christine for the moment. Let__'__s see how the topic of Joel Lane plays out between them shall we__…_

_As always, thank you for reading. Leave a review if you want to feed the muse! _

_xoxo_

_Lumora The White _


	9. Peace of Mind

**Long, Long Way From Home**

_Previously__…_

_The song concluded soon after that, he could sense Christine was losing steam since she had put the mic back on the stand instead of holding it in her hand. This time the band left the stage with their instruments. The clock above the bar read 10:20PM. Considering he__'__d been up since 0800 he was feeling it was time for a little R&R. Maybe he could coax Christine into sitting on the hood of the Impala and gazing at the stars. Oh wait. He kicked himself. How was it that just the thought of spending time with Chris made it seem like everything was right with the world?_

"_Dean! Sam!__" __Christine called in their direction, __"__Come meet the band!__"_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine : Peace of Mind<strong>

Sam gave a shrug and a smile. Dean rolled his eyes and followed his baby brother though the crowd. Bobby brought up the rear. The band usually jammed at the salvage yard in an unused part of the garage/pole barn that Christine wired for sound so he knew them all pretty well.

"Joel Lane, electric guitar and vocals," Christine said, for Sam's benefit. "Jerry Jace or 'JJ' as we fondly call him, on the bass." She pointed to Jerry who was placing his guitar in its case. He came over and shook Sam's and Dean's hands. "Harry Fenkle, our fantastic drummer." Harry was already talking to Bobby about the following week's practice time. "Keith Hammond on the keys, I used to play and sing, but this guy graciously stepped up so I don't have to be so restricted during performances." Keith came over and warmly shook each brother's hand.

"Sorry to hear about John. He and my Dad used to hunt together every so often. Call each other about signs and lore and stuff like that." Keith said, "Great to meet you." With that he picked up his keyboard case and shuffled off stage.

Dean was taken aback by the warmth of the band members. They seemed like a little family. Joel was a different story of course. Dean could tell it was because of his unwelcome relationship with Chris, otherwise these guys seemed thick as thieves.

"See you back at the house, kid." Bobby waved, exiting the bar.

"Great job tonight guys!" Sam tagged along after giving Christine a hug. Dean stuck around, carrying out a couple of boxes of equipment to Harry's truck, talking with Keith about his Dad.

"You wanna have a drink with me babe?" Joel asked Christine, throwing his arm around her shoulders after they loaded the last box. Dean could tell it was a usual occurrence for them to have drinks after their gig. Joel tried to steer her away from Dean.

Christine shrugged his arm off, "No thanks Joel, I'm gonna head out." Joel began to protest, so she turned to Dean, "You fit to drive?" She inquired, dangling her keys off her forefinger, ignoring Joel's groan of frustration.

Dean took the keys from her finger, giving Joel a dark look that made the man stop dead in his tracks. He could tell Christine was exhausted, she wouldn't ask him to drive if she wasn't. "You're okay with me driving Cherry Pie?" He teased, placing his hand protectively on the small of her back, leading her towards the gleaming Challenger.

"Roxanne," Christine giggled tiredly, "Her name is Roxanne."

"You don't have to put on the red light, Roxanne?" Dean asked, opening the passenger door for her.

She nodded, "Bobby's idea, I call her Roxy for short." She yawned loud and long.

"How's that any better than-" He stopped when he locked eyes with Chris. If looks could kill, this was one of them. "Roxy it is," Dean nodded, shutting her door, rounding the front end and settling himself behind the wheel. He turned the key, and Roxy roared to life. He couldn't help but smile. Of course, he would rather be driving Baby, but Roxy was a great car. It didn't hurt that he had a beautiful, talented woman in the passenger seat. Instead of bucket seats, Christine installed a bench seat in the front, just like the Impala. He wondered if the joy ride he took her on in the Impala the weekend before he left ten years earlier inspired the rare stray from stock parts. He'd just turned sixteen, and his Dad left the Impala at Bobby's house when the two men went on a hunt. He told Dean to fix the brakes and to take her out for a test drive, alone. Christine begged him to tag along, of course he relented. Christine practically road half in, half out of the Impala. She had her arm out the window, disbursing the setting rays of the sun across the seat between them. They drove to 'hunter's point', at least that's what Christine called it. It was a pretty decent size hill beside a roadside picnic area that over looked the highway that wound through the bluffs below. They'd ride their bikes out after dark and lay out on the grass and stare at the stars for hours.

They arrived just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The light faded slowly as Dean settled on the hood of the car, Christine sat on the grass, playing with a few blades between her fingers. Christine eventually grew cold, and Dean offered his arms to her. They traded stories about school and friends, dreaming about what they would do to fix up the Challenger that summer.

She curled up next to him, just like she was now, on the ride home. Maybe that experience is what inspired her to get a bench seat rather than the original bucket seats. Dean knew even back then that he needed Christine in his life more than he needed anyone else. She let him talk things out, get mad, and was there to pick up the pieces so he didn't have to do it alone. She was a safe place, someone who didn't demand anything from him. He fell victim to playing the good, obedient son and caring older brother.

Instead of going straight back to Bobby's, he pulled off at the picnic area. The parking lot was still dirt and the tables looks a little worse for wear, but the area was relatively unchanged.

Christine sat up when she felt the car turn right instead of left around the curve at hunter's point. "Dean?" She asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Up for a little star gazing?" He asked, opening the driver's door sliding out. He offered her his hand.

"Sure," She yawned, taking his hand and sliding out after him. Dean kept a hold of her hand, and led her up to the top of the hill. They stood for a moment taking in the big blackish blue sky chock full of stars. The crickets softly sang their symphony of lullabies and a few birds called out into the night. Dean sat down, laying out his Dad's leather jacket like a blanket. He motioned for her to sit between his knees she could rest her back against his chest. She sighed with pleasure at being wrapped up so intimately with him at such a lovely spot that held such good memories for them.

"Tell me what you think of the band." Christine said breaking the comfortable silence they had lapsed into.

Dean scoffed, "Well, uh" He tried to stall a little bit. "The band, hmmm."

"Seriously Dean!" Christine whirled around, gripping the front of his plaid shirt.

Dean laughed, "Okay, Okay." He sighed, "The band is awesome. You, you are awesome." He leaned in, his hand cupping the back of her head, bringing her face close to his. "Joel is quite the piece of work." He murmured, his lips almost touching hers.

"Joel can kiss my ass." Christine whispered before pressing her lips to his. The kiss began softly, lips brushing, their breathing steady. Quickly the kiss intensified, Dean pushed her down on the grass, and covered her body with his own.

He broke the kiss and stared down at her for a moment. She smiled shyly up at him, bitting her lip, her cheeks reddening a bit. "So what's the deal with Joel anyway?" He asked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

She hummed in approval, "Is this really the time Dean?" She protested. All she wanted to think about was the way his lips felt on her skin.

"Seems as good as any," He remarked, lips still lingering on her skin.

With a sigh of frustration, she pushed him off of her. "Fine," She huffed, "I can't think when you do that. You want answers, keep your hands," He put his hands behind his back and leaned in to kiss her again, "and your lips to yourself." He made a pouty face, but helped her stand up. They returned to Roxy, Christine leaned against the hood, and Dean joined her donning his jacket, staring up at the starry sky. "Joel Lane is a piece of work." She began, "He and I go back almost as long as you and I do."

Dean looked over at her, "really?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," She laughed, "You weren't the only boy in the life I had a crush on." She smiled.

"Do tell," He shifted closer, brushing a few stray curls away from her eyes.

"Well," She took a breath, "It really began the summer before you left and never came back. Bobby sometimes had Joel and his sister Kate over when their Dad was out on a hunt. He never took you and Sam at the same time, claimed he wasn't a school master or halfway house care taker." She chuckled.

"Sounds familiar," He commented with a smirk.

"Kate was nice, _then._ We all would play out in the woods or the salvage yard. They weren't as brave as you though. Joel started to look at me like you had. I didn't realize that you were interested in me until I saw that same look in his eyes when he tried to kiss me."

"Wait, hold on." Dean said putting up his hand, "He _tried_ to kiss you."

"Yeah," She giggled. "He took me to senior prom," Dean's eyebrows rose, "Just as friends," she assured him. She cleared her throat and continued, "He dropped me off at Bobby's back porch and before I went inside, he leaned in to kiss me. I panicked, so I shrieked and kneed him in the balls!" She exclaimed, fully laughing this time.

Dean found himself enjoying the story even more with this new development. "No other guys since then?" He asked, coming even closer to her.

She shook her head, "Nope. Joel definitely has knack for scaring the competition away."

"And Kate?" He asked, remembering hearing about Kate when they were kids.

Christine barked a laugh, "Kate." She sighed, "Kate auditioned to be the lead singer of what's now named Elliott and The Breakaway Creation. The band started the summer after we all graduated high school. Harry-"

"The fantastic drummer," Dean added, showing he was paying attention earlier.

"Nice," Christine praised him with a nod, "Harry didn't know who she was exactly and he torn her up one side and down the other. Said she sounded like a cat yowling in heat." She pushed off the hood and began to pace, "Joel was so furious. He almost quit the band, but decided to stay because-"

"Who else was he going to play with?" Dean finished for her. Living the life of a hunter, friends were damn hard to come by.

Christine nodded and continued, "I auditioned the following week, and the guys all agreed I was what they were looking for. Joel was beyond ecstatic."

"I'm sure." Dean said quietly. He contemplated how to express to Christine that Joel didn't frighten him at all. Dean Winchester didn't scare that easy.

"I don't think Kate took well to the fact that there was not even a snowball's chance in hell that she and I were ever going to be sisters in law." Christine sighed, "I don't think she really considered the fact that she'd be sentencing me to a life with her bumbling idiot of a brother for to that happen. She just figured he's a boy and I'm a girl. This was the way it was supposed to go."

"That's too bad." Dean said pushing off from the hood, coming to stand in front of her. "I think Joel is at it again."

"Yeah?" She asked, "Is Dean Winchester scared by little Joel Lane?" She teased, crossing her arms defiantly.

"So scared," He said sarcastically, gently uncrossing her arms, placing her hands on his shoulders, stepping into her embrace.

"Well, Dean Winchester," She said with a giggle, her fingers threading into his hair "What are you going to do about it?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement in the pale moonlight.

"I'm sure I'll come up with something," He murmured, running his thumb over her parted lips. He lifted her chin slightly so he could stare directly into her eyes. He leaned closer, just before he pressed his lips to hers he whispered, "Awesome."

They kissed for a little while longer, the second time Christine had to pull away to yawn, Dean knew it was time to turn in. He settled her back in passenger seat and drove them back to Bobby's house.

Bobby Singer stood on the back porch, whiskey glass in hand. He gazed up at the starry sky and wondered how in the world he was going to have a serious talk with Dean about Christine now that John had passed. He knew women were a touchy subject for Dean to begin with, and now that the boy's nerves were raw and bleeding, he was going to bring it up. He loved Christine with every fiber of his being. He felt protective of that girl, and he'd be damned if Dean Winchester was going to hurt her again. Many a night he held her when she woke from a nightmare screaming Dean's name. She understood why the boys didn't come back, but she still felt connected to Dean somehow. He wasn't a fool. These two kids had something special. He just wanted to make sure Dean Winchester knew it before it was too late.

He heard the delicious purr of the Challenger's engine before he saw the headlights turn into the yard. Christine sure did a fine job on that car, one of the proudest moments of his life was handing her the keys on her sixteenth birthday. Two solid years of work later and she drove the car off to community college. To his surprise, Dean climbed out of the driver's seat, gently pulling a sleepy Christine from the passenger seat. He wrapped her up in his arms and carried her bridal style up the house. He could hear Christine's faint protests as the pair came closer to the porch.

"Bobby," Dean nodded at the older man as Bobby held the door open for him. Dean set Christine on her feet, but she swayed a little, so he helped her to the arm chair that sat at the foot of the stairs under the archway between the foyer and the den. "I'll be right back," He whispered. Christine nodded, kissing his cheek before settling back into the chair. He could tell Bobby wanted to have a word with him.

The darkness of the surrounding area seemed to press in on the little house. Lightning bugs flickered at the edge of the woods, mirroring the cloudless starry sky above. Bobby turned at the sound of the screen door opening. Dean Winchester stepped out onto the porch, his boots softly thudding against the wood floor.

Dean walked up the railing where Bobby stood and leaned back against it. He took a deep breath, "So, is this where you threaten to pump me full of buckshot if I break her heart?" He murmured, glancing sideways at the older man.

Bobby scoffed, "Naw, she'd take care of that for me." He smiled ruefully. He studied the younger man's reaction. Dean nodded with a small smile. "Let's just say I won't stop her." Bobby's voice turned cold.

"Fair enough," Dean straightened away from the railing, turning to go. Bobby's voice stopped him.

"Dean," Bobby said, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I know you're hurting, son. Just remember she'd go to hell and back for you wh-"

"Whatever the cost." Dean finished for him, turning back around, making Bobby's jaw drop a little. "I'm the one who told her that." He took a quick breath and continued, reassuming his position on the railing, "I think she thought I was a little crazy and overprotective until she found out the truth."

Bobby nodded. "She accepted the supernatural without so much as a blink. Christine is," Bobby's voice broke and he cleared his throat. Dean shifted uncomfortably, straightening away from the railing to lean against the house. "Christine is loyal to a fault. I just don't want to see you take advantage of it like others have."

Dean nodded. He could tell Joel hung on to hope simply because Christine still remained loyal to him, even though she rejected him romantically.

Bobby clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder in a gesture of affection. "I've always considered you boys to be family. You boys are the best in the business." He took a breath and sighed. "You and I can both agree, Christine deserves-"

"The best." Dean finished with a knowing smirk.

"Exactly." Bobby answered, moving past the younger man towards the door. He held the door open, "You coming?" He asked.

"In a minute." Dean answered, leaning one last time on the railing, watching the lighting bugs glow in the yard.

Bobby entered the house, taking care to make sure the screen door didn't bang shut behind him. Christine sat in her favorite arm chair by the stairs, knees curled up to her chin. He turned down the lamp on the bookshelf by her head. He reached down and smoothed away a few curls from her forehead. Almost hoping Dean caught him, Bobby leaned down and pressed a kiss to her left temple.

Dean pushed off the railing and entered the house, catching the screen door behind him just before it slammed shut. He found Bobby leaned over Christine, his lips pressed to her forehead. He looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, not wanting to intrude on Bobby's moment.

"Take care of her," Bobby whispered before disappearing up the stairs.

All Dean could do was nod as he came toward Christine's sleeping form. He leaned down to her, scooping her up in arms. She shifted a little mumbling, "No Joel, I - only Dean. Dean."

Dean felt his smile turn into that silly, face splitting grin he could only ever attribute to Christine. He made it up the stairs before he found her staring shyly up at him. He continued down the hallway, "Hey there," He said, his voice husky with the emotion of their close proximity.

They reached her door, and he gently set her on her feet. She gripped the doorframe as he backed away from her. "Hey," She whispered back.

"Great job tonight Chris," Dean murmured, turning to go back down the hall to the room he usually shared with Sam, "I'll let you get some sleep."

He took a few steps down the hall before Christine found her voice, "Dean," her voice sounded urgent and needy.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around to find Christine standing in the middle of the hallway across from her doorframe. Before he could change his mind, he closed the distance between them, kissing her fiercely. He lifted her up, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He maneuvered them through into her room, across the area rug to her bed. They kissed for a few moments, feet dangling off the bed.

"I need a shower." Christine whispered sitting up, stripping off her boots She couldn't take how sticky she felt any longer, especially if she was going to continue to get up close and personal with Dean. "Be right back," She kissed his cheek, getting up from the bed. As she walked across the room she stripped off her black sleeveless top without much thought, revealing her lacy black bra. She dropped the blouse in the laundry basket by the bathroom door. She turned towards the bed, finding Dean reclining against the pillows, his eyes glued to hers, glittering in the darkness. She gasped, suddenly registering what she had done. "Sorry!" She squeaked, crossing her arms over her breasts.

"I'm not," Dean mused, as she disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He stripped off his boots and jacket. He stepped out of his jeans and shrugged off his plaid shirt, laying it on her desk chair just like the night before. He settled back on the bed, listening to the running water.

Christine shut off the shower, stripping off the shower cap she kept for instances like this. Her hair was too much of a beast to attend to at 1 AM. She dressed in a simple black tank top and soft pink sleep shorts, after a few quick dabs of moisturizer and spray of deodorant. She fluffed her hair, studying her reflection for a moment in the mirror over the sink. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and softly padded over the bed.

Dean heard the water shut off. He listened to her move around in the room for a moment. Forcing himself to sit up he opened his eyes to find Christine emerging from the bathroom. She still didn't have much on, this time he was treated to a view of her luscious legs. He cleared his throat as she approached the bed, earning a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks.

Christine sat down on the edge of the bed as Dean took over the bathroom for a moment. She leaned over and clicked off the lamp by the bedside. Dean was already undressed, so she knew he could navigate his way to the bed like he'd done numerous times before. Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, she settled herself under the covers, still facing the bathroom. She closed her eyes with a sigh, reveling in the softness of her mattress and comforter.

Dean returned to find the room plunged into total darkness. A sliver of moonlight spilled across the bed, bathing her form in its pale light. Her eyes were closed, and as he moved closer, he could see her breathing was deep and even. He slid under the covers, gently wrapping his arm around her.

Christine felt the bed dip and the covers pull back. She hummed with pleasure as she felt his arms wrap around her, turning slightly on her side to help his reach. She opened her eyes slightly, and with a yawn she asked, "Bobby threaten to pump you full of buckshot?"

Dean's chest reverberated with a chuckle, "Nope," He turned his face to look into her eyes, "said you'd take care of that." He squeezed her a little.

"Damn straight," She shot back with a giggle. "Thank you," She whispered suddenly sober.

Dean studied her for a moment. "Always," He answered letting sleep claim his weary body and mind.

* * *

><p><em>from the author<em>_'__s desk__…_

Peace of Mind - Boston - I believe Christine could be a great companion for Dean. She's not going to let him forget who he is, and who he could be. This song has always been a favorite of mine, and I imagine this being on both of their playlists while working on their cars.

Up next we FINALLY get to the roadhouse! Wahoo! I'm so pumped to share my version of Dean's and Jo's relationship with Christine fit in. Hang on, its going to be a wild one…

xoxo

Lumora The White


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